an amuse-bouche of summer
If I didn't ride the T, I would have missed it. Missed the improv jazz band playing at the corner of Copley Square, the saxophonist swaying with his eyes closed. Missed the peanut vendor on the phone telling her boss she sold lots of drinks today. Missed the train full of Red Sox fans on their way to tonight's game against the Yankees, which will decide the series. Missed the sunburnt guy asking a girl he's never met before about her engagement ring, then telling her how he's going to sell his motorcycle so he can buy a ring for his girlfriend. Missed the sun dresses blooming like spring flowers. Missed the old Japanese couple dressed to the nines in black, he in a three-piece pinstripe suit, she in a polite skirt and long-sleeve cardigan, as if 80 degrees has no effect on them. Missed the bow-legged man with white hair, white shirt and white shorts, stopping in the middle of the crosswalk to look through his camera lens. Missed the delicious amuse-bouche of summer in the city.