A girl at the corner table observes me observing her.  Both of us scribbling in our notebooks.  I am reminded of the paintings in Krakow by Marcia Macie Jowski; the artist portraying museum visitors pondering paintings, repeated over and over like reflecting mirrors.  The observers themselves become the art, as do I looking at the girl, looking at me.

8:32 Thursday morning, the plaza is vacant, save a nun walking past, the abundance of birds.  I abandon my croissant letting them have it.  I fear disease, whatever else they might carry and leave behind.  Years ago I walked the back alleys of my parents’ house with Kim, summertime, licking our ice cream sandwiches, the cream escaping the sides of the chocolate cake, our hands sticky with childhood.  Mine fell on the littered ground and I picked it up and continued, not wanting to abandon my icy treat.  My flip flops flap-flap-flapping against the pavement.  Me and Kim.