signs

Maybe it's a sign or something, he says. It's the second time today. It's cold and we're walking along City Hall Park in the darkness. A cab drives by and a woman pops out of the back window and screams at him "Love is in the air!". I don't understand it the first time, I think she and the other woman whose voice I can also hear are trying to pick him up. But then they both repeat it to the top of their lungs and love hits the airwaves loud and clear. I smile. He says again he can't believe it. It's the second time today, in that tone that he uses that melts my hard-polished English into this soggy immigrant version I truly hate. I ignore it and let him ponder the possibility of this being a sign. The first time was earlier today. We were walking towards Washington Square Park, so easy to walk so many parks in a day in this city, I know, and a couple of guys say something. I have to admit I wasn't paying attention, I was busy with the shoes I was wearing with hose for the first time. Bad idea, it just makes my feet slide out of them. Did you hear what those black guys said? Huh? I'm looking at the babies in a stroller, all bundled up, their blue eyes unaware of my shoe nightmare. I can't believe they said that! What? and I look up to him. I like us walking around the city. He is a fast walker. I'm too, but not now. Around him I become a wanderer. Time goes by different. He goes determinately about his business, the train station, a shoe store, the three o'clock reservation for lunch. I slug behind, look at things. We don't hold hands, sweaty palms, fear of commitment, who cares. I like this space between us. This meeting at the crossroads of globalization. This translated relationship, intercultural kisses, whatever. He walks and I wander. I turn at a different corner, look at my feet, everything is different. "Good job man, don't forget to tell her that you love her". Huh?, but this time I'm smiling. Why did they say that? Maybe it is a sign after all.