the dogs of my neighborhood
we've got so many dogs around here. some of them on leads, most of them free. there is a big, fuzzy blackish one that wanders up and down connsbrook ave; sometimes he sprawls out on the pavement in front of his house, other times he hangs out at the chip shop or the co-op with his beagle-ish friend. i greet him with hands in pockets usually--i'm always the girl who gets bitten. famous last words: don't worry; he won't bite.
and there is the small lab dog, old and black with a white, stubbly muzzle, who follows behind the old man with the umbrella. he is a worried dog, always looking around, googly-eyed through cataracts. "it ain't too different a view through your eyes than through mine," i think yesterday, as i walk to the library, cold. "it's all mist and grey, regardless." i walk on, looking down, avoiding puddles, listening to beth orton's "paris train" on my walkman: sometimes, sometimes we can see beyond our history, the last place you hope to find is the one that's been there all the time. sometimes we can swim beyond the scenery and the first place that's on your mind is the first place you'd find each time
two blocks behind cataract lab is an old woman with a lead and no dog, it seems at first glance. then i pass her, and notice that she is dragging a grey poodle, who appears to be back-peddling, futilely, while continuously being pulled forward, forward along the wet sidewalk.
they painted a mural on the post office last week. i watched them secure the scaffolding and paint a heart, bright red. in a city of endless murals donning masked men with machine guns and frightening political loyalties, our new mural is quite the contrast. finished in just over 24 hours, the heart has the words "post office" neatly written in its center, and springing forth from it are endless letters (letters like mail, not alphabet). of course, there is the requisite mailman being chased by a dog (a vaguely familiar neighborhood dog, i'm sure) and laughing children: royal mail as bringers of peace and joy and letters from loved ones.
sometimes we can swim beyond the scenery.