I can be having a for sure blah kind of day and then walk home from the market and see a young kid, maybe 14 with so much style drenching him - a black cardigan with big sloppy white blobs all over it and a white dress shirt buttoned at the neck and baggy light blue jeans - and think, gee, I bet he looks that cool and singular everyday and I love seeing him and more like him on the streets where I live. 


And before him, maybe the most beautiful arms I’ve ever encountered. Lightly muscled, long, sinewy, a tasty autumnal brown cast. I almost told the guy what I was thinking but then thought not. He was carrying pruning shears and maybe ... if it was my bad luck ...  he might be a creep, and lunge into me. But alas, he unlocked the gate to the pocket park behind the library and walked into he greenhouse that I’ve coveted for years. 

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