By sarah dragonfleyes@excite.com
Date: 16 November 2000

waiting on brady st.

i think it's a series of waiting.  otherwise i can't think of any other explanation.  so that must be it.  since i sit and wait, i lie down and i wait, i talk and i wait, i watch, and i wait. wait.  but what is it i'm waiting for, i've waited for so much in my life, what is it i'm waiting for now, who is it i'm waiting for.  i used to sit down at this cafe' on brady street.  everyone knew what brady street was, you talked of brady street when you talked about people with funky hair, people with tattoos, if you wanted to see interesting clothing, there was brady street.  I liked standing at the top of the hill on brady street, there was a catholic church on the one corner, a laundromat on the next, and across the way, a pool hall. You could see the length of brady street from that vantage point.  it wasn't a long street, rather short, not even a mile, but it was infamous.

i would sit there, at this one cafe, rochambo.  i would have raspberry sunrise tea, hold it between both my hands, pull up a chair for my butt, then another for my feet, and sit back and watch.  in summer i could lounge outside without my shoes on, but in winter they had these big windows, picture windows in the front of the cafe, so i could just stare out them, as if a tv.  i pretended no one could see me, i was invisible when i watched.  I remember the days i went there early in the morning, watching the world slowly awaken.  first the bedheads would arrive on the cement, walking their dogs.  then i would wait for the next group, the ones who had just freshly showered and were out looking for breakfest, and finally the lovers emerging with the glow emanating on their skin.

those were the ones i watched.

the lovers.

i watched them come out of their cars, the gentle touches on the small of the back.  the little exchange of kisses, how they couldn't seem to pass a moment without a touch of that other person.

this was brady street.

one day i was walking down brady street, i felt a brushing on my arm.  i saw a man standing there in the shadow, he said that he knew me, and i had to stare.

so i stared.

it was someone i knew from a long time back, and he had changed his hair color.

we exchanged words

he said i looked good, and he wanted to see me again.

so i waited.  i always wait, it's the only choice i have.  i wait for the confused to make their decisions, and i wait for those moments when i might be able to say the right thing. i normally don't.

it tends to be the wrong thing.

so now i am waiting outside of brady street. rather far away.  i'm waiting for the day i can return there, and i can sit by the fence, where i once sat, in the sun, in that glorious sun where it warmed me on those chilly mornings (it was near lake michigan, only a few blocks, i could walk) while i would sip my raspberry sunrise, and wait, for whatever might come that day, though i hoped it would be someone...someone to wait with.
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