cheese puffs and cashews

julie warshaw

it's a long commute

I always think about pedestrians I see when I’m stopped at a light. I’m curious about homeless people who are always on the same corner at the same time in different, clean clothes. I speculate as to whether babies in preposterously extravagant strollers know it’s humid. I see people on their way to restaurant jobs and wonder whether they’re happy in the food industry. I think about how hot people in suits must be. Are the old people with walkers running errands or doing a lap around the block? I speculate about the roses guy’s schedule and wonder if he shows up at the light at the same time every day; I wonder if he’s friends with the fruit lady who works the same intersection. And then I hit the gas because the light changed color and unlike most members of my fair sex, I was paying attention.

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