when aliza was back in israel, looking after her Pop in the hospital, doty was at home recovering. he had plans to fix up this girls' bike that had been abandoned in their neighbors yard so that aleez could ride it when she got back, but at the time both wheels were flat, the chain and pedals were rusty and gross, everything was unridable. somewhere between him making me jalapeño poppers (with chevre!?) and a watermelon + mint slushy and aliza's return he fixed up the bike. it is now a dainty tank, with shiny black wheels, and a lustrous frame...if a tank can be dainty, this is that - although imagining aliza fly back and forth to israel and in and around various hospitals in the big apple makes me think that such a petite thing could be a tank, a tank indeed...i think the basket on the front could probably fit flowers or produce from the saturday morning farmer's market at mc carren park, or maybe it should just house a whole bunch of open space; affording a weightlessness in the front that she probably needs to make it easier to get over the humps that brooklyn, the borough, presents its riders from time to time...in their apartment is a catalog of various birds accompanied with beautiful illustrations, a book by goethe on color theory, red-hued snapshots from the late 70s and 80s of blond baby boys and tan baby girls, unicorn coasters, a mini-suitcase, a horned animal skull, a guitar, a soft couch that i offend with the bottoms of my popcorn-smelling vanned-feet, and an abundance of fresh sky blue and warm, familial rose...i see and feel these colors as i hear his murmurs, the surprising nature of which ignite the brightness and clarity of her suspended, infectious, quakes of laughter.
No comments:
Post a Comment