cheap champagne.

Slane Public
MacDougal/Bleeker, NYC

Man with two weathered Polaroid cameras, one weathered grey dreadlock dangling from his chin. Smith Ski goggles wrapped around his head. Three new tennis balls held onto his vehicle by steel spokes and a black plastic bag carrying garbage hangs from the handlebars.
He bobs his head slightly to the acoustic music drifting from where we are to where he is. He is close enough to touch if I stand, but I'd rather not.
I sit at a spotlit table, glasses of cheap champagne and wilted roses. Eyes searching for those pieces of our youth that spark remembrance. No one asks questions to direct the conversation. The volume is too loud to hear the answers anyway. But the air is cool and the drinks are cheap and if we choose to capture a Polaroid moment, we can--but we won't.