a flower misread

originally posted August 7, 2006
A young, stringy-haired transient with a backpack plucked a purple flower at the corner of Burlington’s City Hall Park. He walked by my bench talking to it, and without breaking his stride or saying a word, placed the flower next to a young blond eating her lunch on a neighboring bench. The woman, startled at first, picked up and inspected the flower, then put it down with a bemused look. The man continued toward the lower green without looking back. She watched him for a moment then returned to her fork and plastic container. I watched the guy wriggle from his knapsack, strip off his shirt, spread it on the grass, then lay on his stomach. That dude is totally hoping to get lucky, I thought, she sees through that flower shit. The woman made a couple cell calls and plucked berries from a tinfoil wrap. The sky started to cloud over and the guy sat up and put his shirt back on. Then stood and left the park. Fifteen minutes later, the woman threw out her napkins and wrappers and headed out of the park as well, cupping the small purple flower – as delicate as a bird – in her hand.