Held Breath, Exhaled Home

 
He was reflective, contemplative, alone on a bench surrounded by budding trees and block-long concrete apartment complexes. His scarf wrapped tightly and pipe in hand, he inhaled and held. He wanted to exhale as the bikes zipped past unseen and the u-bahn unloaded below. Pupils dilating, he saw the microscopic growth of possible flowers blooming. Lungs expanding, he tasted the air laden with rain. He didn't want it to end, so still he held.

The old woman with her paper shopping bag and her yapping dog silk draped over her head walked past. There was no recognizable acknowledgement. There was nothing. He wanted something. He wanted to be seen if only momentarily. He exhaled. Still nothing. She was gone.

He sat on that bench alone as the night grew and the sliver of moon ascended. He finished his bowl with two drawn breaths. Then, he stood, and the world changed. He was no longer alone in the park. He was one of the masses trapped between where he was and where he was going. He liked it there. Almost more than on that bench.

He stalled. He held. Then, he went home.

Berliner's Spine Popped

     

      
He approached me casually in German asking something of me I couldn't understand and yet obviously flirting. That is a language beyond words. The gentle bodily intonations that spark and catch on receivers unseen and universal. I smiled.

He spoke again in English. This time more animated expressing back pain from manual labor. His whit tufts of hair perfectly matched his loud red shirt and scuzzy black pants as he asked for my help. I obliged smilingly and stood.

He turned me around and ordered me to stay, arms firmly planted at my sides. We stood back to back. He pushed his arms through mine as he chuckled slightly and pushed on my back. I hoisted him. Spine popped. He smiled. Danke.

He spoke of art and pot and wooden pipes perfect for smoking and wanting to share. It smelled of tobacco and dried longing. I opened my hand and received. We both smiled.

He left the cafe and hopped on his bike. As he bent over to unlock the lock, I was greed by striped underwear and thick white legs gazing at me from a gigantic tear. Unaware he smiled. Aware I smiled. Together we understood.