My Best Rags

Yesterday I was lost. Well I knew that I was in Brooklyn, walking across 17th street, dodging muddy puddles and tire inflicted water splatter. It was mild out. It was wet. It was muddy. I went to the bank, a normal weekly activity. When I finished I grabbed a purple lollipop from the shallow bowl of welcoming sugar. I chewed it and it was gone. I tasted grape.

I was going to walk home but I wanted to do something spontaneous. So I swiped my metro card and hopped on the first train to arrive. Did not matter if it went in the direction of Coney Island or Manhattan. I needed to do something different. I thought of all the possible things I could do, all the possibilities that used to nourish my soul. They no longer would. I started to think of food, because my stomach started to growl. Asian food. Cold summer rolls. Chinatown. Canal Street and I exited.

The station was dirty, a short hairy man in black leather carrying a musical instrument taller than himself, bitched and moaned down the steps. Coming my way, cursing. I moved. Up the steps I went and across the street was the restaurant I had in mind. It was crowded. I sat by myself at a table with one man at the other end. My order was bland but light. I asked for more peanut sauce. I needed flavor.

I left and it was pouring. Windy. No need for an umbrella. I looked for a Chinese Bakery. The one I saw was small. I went back down to the subway and boarded the first train back to Brooklyn. The N train. A few stops before mine the doors opened and rain water poured in. It gracefully spilled across the floor. 5 people to my left had red American Girl bags. They all got wet.

Bought Chinese bakery coffee on Bay Parkway. It was strong. B6 bus home. Pulled out a paper towel from my knapsack to wipe my glasses and a bunch of tiny feathers filled the air. I puzzled myself. But then I remembered. My black winter coat, one of my best rags, the coat I was going to relinquish to the textile compost bins these past 2 years, was still being used. It was warm, great for walking dogs, I could not let it go. The day prior I had washed it. But emptied all the ripped pockets out and stuffed all contents into my knapsack. I giggled to myself.

A good day.