J . . . jaded. Jaded I am sometimes after being jostled and jerked around, about to be jettisoned into the likes of Newtown Creek. Like the joke is on me because I’ve given and given more and have’t gotten any. Done the same things so long I can’t tell if I’m doing them or just dreaming. It’s rained so long I’ve forgotten what the sun looks like. I swig some wine and it tastes like water. I make a lunch, but can’t take more than two bites. Jaded, humdrum. Kind of like the Staten Island ferry that ever only shuttles back and forth, back and forth between St George Staten Island and Whitehall Manhattan.
Then a friend tells me he saw the Staten Island ferry up the East River. Another friend swears she saw it gallivanting up the North River. Can’t be, I think. So this morning I see a strange distant vessel east bound on the KVK.
I think . . . that color I know, and
the shape is about right, but . .. It turns out this ferry Michael Cosgrove runs on the Long Island Sound.
Once the spell is broken, my eyes are opened. Bow watch on Zim Shenzhen is a freckle-faced red-headed boy, and
on Turkon Furth is a young woman. And up on the bridge
is another. What if –my jaded spell broken –I found myself seeing the unexpected with every glance!
And so many mariners were women that a man on a ship would draw attention.
Anyhow, the impact of seeing Michael Cosgrove was that I turned . . . from jaded to almost jolly. Seaweed on rocks turned glossy jade green, and even the water rats, scurrying around their habitat looked a shiny, healthy, happy nuanced gray. I still had to go to work, but at least for a spell, I felt better. Stopping by the river on the way to work . . . always a good idea.
All fotos by Will Van Dorp. Remember . . click on fotos to expand them now.
Most likely “H” comes tomorrow.