POTHOLES AND PUDDLES

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Because he was reading he didn’t notice what happened. So nothing happened. Yet the Earth kept spinning, the world was moving and gravity pulled. A black-haired young woman in a shiny red dress was strolling on the sidewalk, a bouquet of yellow flowers under her left arm and a single white rose in her right hand. The potholes, full of water because of recent rain, had reflections of her billowy dress. The bus stalled for a minute at the lights. In her eyes the bi-dimensional look of someone who’s already been somewhere and given the flowers, and now going someplace else to put them in a vase and show them. (She’ll draw the table to the window and leave this open, for the yellow flowers, while the rose will go into a separate glass.) If it rains and then it’s warm and the sun comes out, all colors attain a magnificence even the dirty windows of busses cannot make dull.

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2 Replies to “POTHOLES AND PUDDLES”

  1. Thanks! It is true, so much of what goes on we’re not aware of and it’s as if it were not happening at all. On a different note, i hope the snow’s finally melted up in the north where you live…

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