The streetlight always delays changing from red to green on the left side. The businessmen men -who have been made late to work by both the elevators in their condos and the subway crowd- push hastily past me in order to be the first to cross the street. I never pay attention to anything in particular in the street since I always have my nose buried in a text book or note portfolio. Today's no different, I need to review for the quiz in class.
Cell phone chatter fills the atmosphere along with the scent of morning cappuccinos.
"Oh you did" "I'm on my way to the office, will probably be there in about twenty minutes" "Oh really..."
'Now I see you standing with brown leaves all around and snow in your hair'
The voice singing the familiar lyrics isn't one that would belong to a sucked on rock star, the voice belongs to sucked on old man. He doesn't lack hair, it's all over his face and head and he really does look like the dirty -full of lice- homeless version of Santa Clause. Perhaps this is him in disguise, he's probably just observing my every move in order to find an excuse so he can remove me from his 'nice' list and place me on the 'naughty' list.
Santa sits at the doorstep of an old fashion tavern. He sings with his eyes closed, slowly and peacefully but loudly. I don't think he wants to be heard, I think he just wants to hear himself. I take a second look at him and realize his resemblance to Santa is not all that strong. Except for the hair he looks nothing like Santa, he is a semi-thin man with very sun burnt face which wears a very peaceful expression. Like most people in his situation he is very pathetic.
'Now you're telling me you're not nostalgic...Then give me another word for it...'
I should really get back to reviewing my notes; I should really be paying attention to the street light; I should really take my eyes off this old man, yet I can't help but look at him. I'm wondering what he is singing about, what made him want to sing that song out loud? Perhaps he is merely insane like the people say, or perhaps he is honestly pained. Who could she be? She who haunts him...An ex-wife? The memory of a high school sweetheart? No. He's most likely just one of the band's oldest fans. There are no tears rolling down his filthy cheeks, his face is still peaceful and his eyes remain closed. Maybe I should give him a dollar...
'Yes we both know what memories can bring...'
But since the red light turned green as I turned my head I think I'll just be going.
Cell phone chatter fills the atmosphere along with the scent of morning cappuccinos.
"Oh you did" "I'm on my way to the office, will probably be there in about twenty minutes" "Oh really..."
'Now I see you standing with brown leaves all around and snow in your hair'
The voice singing the familiar lyrics isn't one that would belong to a sucked on rock star, the voice belongs to sucked on old man. He doesn't lack hair, it's all over his face and head and he really does look like the dirty -full of lice- homeless version of Santa Clause. Perhaps this is him in disguise, he's probably just observing my every move in order to find an excuse so he can remove me from his 'nice' list and place me on the 'naughty' list.
Santa sits at the doorstep of an old fashion tavern. He sings with his eyes closed, slowly and peacefully but loudly. I don't think he wants to be heard, I think he just wants to hear himself. I take a second look at him and realize his resemblance to Santa is not all that strong. Except for the hair he looks nothing like Santa, he is a semi-thin man with very sun burnt face which wears a very peaceful expression. Like most people in his situation he is very pathetic.
'Now you're telling me you're not nostalgic...Then give me another word for it...'
I should really get back to reviewing my notes; I should really be paying attention to the street light; I should really take my eyes off this old man, yet I can't help but look at him. I'm wondering what he is singing about, what made him want to sing that song out loud? Perhaps he is merely insane like the people say, or perhaps he is honestly pained. Who could she be? She who haunts him...An ex-wife? The memory of a high school sweetheart? No. He's most likely just one of the band's oldest fans. There are no tears rolling down his filthy cheeks, his face is still peaceful and his eyes remain closed. Maybe I should give him a dollar...
'Yes we both know what memories can bring...'
But since the red light turned green as I turned my head I think I'll just be going.
