fifteen: fresh air

Dead Week began today, students have officially reached saturation point, and new knowledge is formally banned until spring.
The forecast mirrors this: a week of rain and temperatures dropping into the low thirties.
Student protesters are still sending flash-mob texts that this semester will be the end of public education.
Today though there is a moment of sunshine and fresh perspective as one bold professor preaches bravely about the institutionalization of fear as a means by which the rich elite controls poor masses.
It’s free for all in earshot, refreshing for students who could use a break in the storm.

fourteen: reason

As the storm hits, he’s nestled behind the counter in front of the space heater.
Though the fresh black and white sign on the door says “NO BIKES” he can see the shades of gray in the impending rain clouds.
“No, its ok you can bring it in.”
We talked about Johnny Cash once and the paradoxically shining insight of the Man in Black.
He saves me a soggy saddle, lets me use a debit card to buy an apple and gives me cash back for the quarters I will need to dry my clothes for the wet week ahead.

thirteen: warmth

It’s colder in the city, closer too the water, less soil and green, more concrete and steal.
But as we fold into this sardine can, packing bodies in close enough to feel each other’s breath; the urban chill becomes increasingly distant.
The dog is the first thing people notice, then the cane and then the dark glasses.
The blind couple is dressed for an occasion and its clear, though they are smiling, that they are a bit nervous and defeated by the bustle.
Instantly the crowd parts, a young punk rock couple vacates their seats, and guides them to rest.

twelve: Mother Lover

A bit out of place on Telegraph Ave. in the raucous throws of a college town Friday night.
Honestly she looks far more retired soccer mom than homeless outreach.
This hardly fazes her though as she strides the block at a mall walkers pace, finding the grimace of the cold and hungry, and warily turns the unfamiliar into friendly.
This She drove here specifically from across town where she held a business meeting with far too much food.
This was a place where she could find “some people in need.”
Her smile speaks volumes as to who really needed whom.

eleven: Tow Rope

School is similar to mountain climbing in that the hardest part comes at the end when least expected and even less welcomed
As the crawl and drag of the ninth inning of the semester comes to an abrasive halt, students cautiously trace back their steps of the previous four months.
The summit called Finals.
Nothing is more comforting than a little solidarity and hot chocolate.
The kids from the Student Action group offer a little sugar, a little caffeine, a stack of blue books and an overwhelming shot of positive attitude, like a guide rope leading back to base camp.

ten: The Provider

Following him for a quarter of a mile rakes on my patience, he moves intolerably slow, inspecting every trashcan.
(half a subway sandwich, 3/4s of a boba drink)
Setting down a half eaten deli platter and three paper cups balancing like birds on a wire,
His movement is feverish
(two more paper cups, a pizza box)
Holding far more than he can eat, I track him back to the park where he rustles a hand full of sleeping bags, and doles out the yield.
A home is not a prerequisite for a community,
Though tonight, he is the bread earner.

nine: Peace Offering

3pm is to 7-11 what the guillotine was to French royalty:
School is out.
Boundaries between playground and the real world blur through corn syrup tinted glasses, inspiring shrink rates and distrust between child and counter person.
Today, the aftermath of the rush inspired a particularly draconian atmosphere, as the owner stocked a lingering boy, late for battle.
Finally, she snapped, casting him out empty handed.
Dragging his feet across threshold, she calls out after him, does the grown up thing and brings him back offering a token free doughnut for diplomacy.
Apologies are rarely easy, no matter how sweet.