Prose-poem: Man on the Rec Way.
Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2008 3:45 am
The South Hill Recreation Way is mostly straight, mostly flat, which is quite a feat itself in Ithaca, where you can't go anywhere without going uphill. When you see a deer, seldom do you see the flash of a white tail as it bounds away. It is more likely for them to saunter into the brush, if they are moved by your presence at all.
A man stepped into the trail, then turned back to look at his yard, groomed and flowery, then at me, though not fully facing. He stood there without moving, and watched as I approached, his back straight, his hands folded behind. He was brown-skinned, and wore a purple tunic. I expected him to be followed by others, but he was alone. He had a lazy eye. He made no move to walk, run, had no dog on a leash. My eyes traveled about, returning from each foray for information back to the brown, tunic-wearing, lazy-eyed man and his still stare. I looked through perforations in the brush to the garden he'd come from. I looked beyond him to the trail ahead (gravel and greenery), down to the little gadgets on my handlebar (12.2 mph). He was alone. I was alone.
Nothing else to learn, my gaze returned fully to the man. No grey hair. I looked him in the eyes, and one of his looked back at me. As my approach drew near, he faked a lunge at me; brought his hands from behind and pounced into a stance. His eyes widened, and he smiled.
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previous version:
The South Hill Recreation Way is mostly straight, mostly flat, which is quite a feat itself in Ithaca, where you can't go anywhere without going uphill. It stretches from Burns Road through the woods to near the place where Gail and Joe live, a marriage that sounds doomed whenever either of them talks about it. When you see a deer, seldom do you see the flash of a white tail as it bounds away. It is more likely for them to tolerate your presence, roll the black marble of their eyes and saunter into the brush, if they bother to acknowledge your presence at all.
Many people have houses whose backyards are demarcated by the Rec Way. A man stepped into the trail, then turned back to look at his yard, groomed and flowery, then looked at me, though not fully facing me. He stood there without moving, and watched as I approached, his back straight, his hands folded behind. He was brown-skinned, and wore a purple tunic. I expected him to be followed by others, but he was alone. He stepped into the trail, and stood still, watching me. He had a lazy eye. He made no move to walk, run, no dog on a leash, made no indication that he would in any way use the trail. My eyes traveled about, returning from each foray for information back to the brown, tunic-wearing, lazy-eyed man and his still stare. I looked through perforations in the brush to the garden he'd come from. I looked beyond him to the trail ahead (gravel and green), down to the little gadgets on my handlebar (12.2 mph). He was alone. I was alone.
With nothing else to learn, I allowed my gaze to fall fully upon this man. I judged his age to be close to my own, probably a bit younger. No grey hair. I allowed my own stare to meet his. I looked him in the eyes, and one of his looked back at me. As my approach drew near, he made as though he would lunge at me. He brought his hands from behind and pounced into a stance. His eyes widened, and he smiled.
A man stepped into the trail, then turned back to look at his yard, groomed and flowery, then at me, though not fully facing. He stood there without moving, and watched as I approached, his back straight, his hands folded behind. He was brown-skinned, and wore a purple tunic. I expected him to be followed by others, but he was alone. He had a lazy eye. He made no move to walk, run, had no dog on a leash. My eyes traveled about, returning from each foray for information back to the brown, tunic-wearing, lazy-eyed man and his still stare. I looked through perforations in the brush to the garden he'd come from. I looked beyond him to the trail ahead (gravel and greenery), down to the little gadgets on my handlebar (12.2 mph). He was alone. I was alone.
Nothing else to learn, my gaze returned fully to the man. No grey hair. I looked him in the eyes, and one of his looked back at me. As my approach drew near, he faked a lunge at me; brought his hands from behind and pounced into a stance. His eyes widened, and he smiled.
================================================
previous version:
The South Hill Recreation Way is mostly straight, mostly flat, which is quite a feat itself in Ithaca, where you can't go anywhere without going uphill. It stretches from Burns Road through the woods to near the place where Gail and Joe live, a marriage that sounds doomed whenever either of them talks about it. When you see a deer, seldom do you see the flash of a white tail as it bounds away. It is more likely for them to tolerate your presence, roll the black marble of their eyes and saunter into the brush, if they bother to acknowledge your presence at all.
Many people have houses whose backyards are demarcated by the Rec Way. A man stepped into the trail, then turned back to look at his yard, groomed and flowery, then looked at me, though not fully facing me. He stood there without moving, and watched as I approached, his back straight, his hands folded behind. He was brown-skinned, and wore a purple tunic. I expected him to be followed by others, but he was alone. He stepped into the trail, and stood still, watching me. He had a lazy eye. He made no move to walk, run, no dog on a leash, made no indication that he would in any way use the trail. My eyes traveled about, returning from each foray for information back to the brown, tunic-wearing, lazy-eyed man and his still stare. I looked through perforations in the brush to the garden he'd come from. I looked beyond him to the trail ahead (gravel and green), down to the little gadgets on my handlebar (12.2 mph). He was alone. I was alone.
With nothing else to learn, I allowed my gaze to fall fully upon this man. I judged his age to be close to my own, probably a bit younger. No grey hair. I allowed my own stare to meet his. I looked him in the eyes, and one of his looked back at me. As my approach drew near, he made as though he would lunge at me. He brought his hands from behind and pounced into a stance. His eyes widened, and he smiled.
