Philharmonic in Prospect Park. Gorgeous sunset on the hurricaine clouds. Moon up on the other side. People sleeping on blankets. The nuns drink coca-cola. Next to me, she strokes her husband's back as he lays his head on her chest. They seem like love. All around little kids scream and run oblivious to joyful music. The world is for them. Fireflies and glowsticks take over from the pink now darkling clouds. i am here by accident, though it is merely steps from my abode, and i'm here alone, though there is contentment in that fact also. At times a big crowd is the perfect place to be alone.

Glory, shouts the odd man to my right. Allelujah. I thought he was yelling "boring". Imagine that.

There are things i miss sharing with you. Will miss sharing with you. I won't be able to watch you fall in love with someone who isn't me. But i'll always write to you. I love these moments of clarity.

Of the spectacle made just for my musings. A symphony in the park. A summer sky after the storm. The people.

And earlier today, at lunch the strangest thing, shared a table with a young woman since they wouldn't seat us alone at tables. She said lets sit together, i hate the barstools. We ate our grilled cheese and talked. She wants to go work in africa and then study for the LSAT. She's from Detroit. Hates her job and has been here less than a year.  We were real with each other and in the end, it was a good lunch.

Life is strange and wonderful. But I'm cat-sitting and think i should go and walking away, the william tell overture and the sound of fireworks chase me into the
night.