THAT LATENT IMAGE
Long time back, when Hector was a
pup, when this man's Army was a
ten-man patrol, I used to believe
in everything I was told. The rabbit
who hunted dog-meat, the bridge
that collapsed under the weight
of snow. Such a conundrum I
could never understand.
-
One day in Red Hook, at the
Fairway Market, the cook guy
came out with a tray. Right to
where we were sitting in a busy
afternoon - late sunlight burning
down, NY Waterway taxi-boats,
ferrying to and from. I wasn't
sure how far or how often.
-
Anyway, just sitting out with some
coffee and stuff, three of us were in
one place - the guy comes out with
a platter of food, had to be worth forty
bucks, and says 'Here! Compliments
of Fairway Market!' With a big smile
he puts the tray down, and walks off.
-
I'm not the kind to think twice about
what needs instant action, so we took
the food, and said 'thank you, Rico'
(name-badge), as he walked off. The
only confusion came later - do we
tip Rico for something freely given?
-
Oh, oh, the questions mount : we
left three bucks and floated away;
wondering, later, does Rico have
a sister we can ask about all this?
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