the daisy

city sun

"Where have you been, Florida?"

My internal stare-down response: No lady, its July fucking 15^th! It's summer. I've been outside…because it's summer. Yes, yes I do have tan legs, because it's summer.

My Minnesota instinct: Is she kidding? She's kidding. She is feeding pigeons…

My newly acquired Bostonian thought: Oh, I guess I am in a black Banana Republic dress and heels, sitting under a giant plastic daisy that is apparently a solar powered wireless hub eating my lunch in under 15 minutes while glancing at the Financial Times to see what they have to say about Blackberry Apps and watching the Indian tourists…in the middle of a mall courtyard. And oh, maybe people here don't get outside much. In fact, on this gorgeous, sunny, 75 degree day I bet there is only a fraction of a % of people outside as compared to people inside within a 100 yard radius of me and this pigeon feeder.

I stared at the lady; she had a long skirt, tube socks and a sweater on. She was feeding pigeons.

"No. I've been on the cape though!" I smiled.

"Oh. It was warm enough to go to the beach?"

"Yeah. It's been beautiful!"

"Oh. That's nice. I only swim if it's 90 degrees out."

"Oh, yeah." I think the pigeon lady just pursed her lips at me, and then pulled her cardigan close, as if she was cold. I think my glasses are sliding down my nose, because I'm now sweating. Because I'm sitting under a giant plastic daisy, that is providing wireless internet and not a light mist like I was thinking a giant plastic daisy should do in the middle of a concrete sea.

I was also thinking a giant plastic daisy could strategically squirt water out of its petals at men and women in suits walking to work.

"Jim why's your shirt all wet?"

"Oh, I got hit by that damn daisy."

"Little fucker. Daisy fucker."