Member-only story
There Is A Number
Even Though We Don’t Know It
There is a number . . .
Of people met over the years
— of people intentionally ignored
— of people passed unnoticed every day.
Of heartbeats
— of footsteps
— of teardrops
— of laughs.
Of yawns and sighs of resignation.
Of years working under a time clock
— of weeks in faraway places
— of days protesting in the streets
— of hours wondering where the hours go.
Of cats seen hiding under parked cars
— of dog owners carrying plastic bags of shit
— of rats scurrying from trash bags.
Of birds and squirrels going on about their lives.
Of musicians heard in concert halls
— of boomboxes on streets
— of eccentrics ranting on subways.
Of theater performances big and small
— of celebrities spotted.
Of handshakes and kisses
— of things lost
— of things found
— of remembering something forgotten
— of people forgotten.
