4 pictures of friday

Three strangers pass each other on the street, each coming from different directions. They’re all wearing polo shirts with inch wide horizontal strips, but the colors are different. Grey and navy, orange and green, black and white, for five seconds they meet in space and from where I sit on the passing bus they form one single, stripey flag of cotton and bodies.

The planes are practicing their formations overhead. If you hear that loud noise, it’s already too late. If you hear the noise coming from the left look right, they’re that fast. It’s lunchtime and everyone is out walking around and nobody is looking at where they’re going because of this strange, combative dance of noise and steel in the sky above us. People collide, step out into the street without looking, stop in their tracks and point. One guy almost burns me with his cigarette as he rounds a corner, his head fully turned upwards to see a formation of three planes spiraling overhead.

I’ve heard people repeat this line over and over again. It’s from step 6. “having come this far, you have swallowed some large chunks of truth about yourself.” And sure enough, just to own it, this old man repeats it again. Just then a thought pops into my head. “Wonder what those will look like when they come out the other end?” I bust into laughter in the middle of the meeting. Sure I’m sober. Really.

Moon floats just above the horizon in a perfect pool of lavendar fading to pink. It’s glow is just the faintest chartreuse. It dares me to put something of such beauty and command onto a piece of paper. That might not be so possible, old lady. But I might just catch you in plastic.