Foliage

I used to think Fall was sad, what with the leaves dying and all, until someone told me it represented a fresh start, a new beginning. Years later, I related that bit of wisdom to a friend and she thought I was off my rocker. Everyone knows Spring is time for new beginnings. It’s March when everything starts to grow again. Maybe she is right, but I'm sticking to the initial theory. A new beginning only starts when the old is shed, and room is made for the new leaves so that they can grow in.

I'm not sure if I'm thinking about this today because I'm late to work yet again, a leaf I’d really like to turn, or simply because there are thousands of leaves on the ground on the way to the train.

Inside the station tunnel, Newspaper Guy is away and his substitute, selling only a fraction of the goods, has handwritten a sign on the ground. "Leave your money and take your paper."

Passing through the turnstile I can already hear a subway performer singing "Besame Mucho" at the far end of the platform. Shlomo D. is at the bottom of the stairs, eating a sandwich. He doesn't say hello and neither do I.

At my spot I get a seat on the bench, near a girl with curly red hair and a cute button nose. She is sitting next to a burly man in a black fleece, but it turns out they are not together. We all board the train together and I sit down planning to read this week's New Yorker, but mostly I just think about the leaves.