It’s the indie couple pushing a stroller down the main strip, one decorated in piercings, the other hidden behind a beard; their most noticeable accessory is shared: a smile that reaches their eyes.
And the angelic faced woman who paces the meridian selling roses in the rain.
It’s the brawny man with an alluring mystique at the farmer's market who arranges his plants, revealing a feminine handle.
And the 30-something punk with a tattoo-painted arm hanging out the window of a daisy yellow VW bug.
It’s Charlie the Butcher dressed in white from head to toe in his apron and cap stepping out of his mini-van, walking toward a torso of himself made of plaster above the sign.
And the girl at the co-op with the streak of blue in her hair.
It’s the boy who’s skinny jeans fall off his seat as he rides down the street, striking the bell on his ice cream cart.
And the 20-something dude in the bike shop, dressed in black, who wishes he could attach a noise maker that looks like a plastic container from a 25-cent toy slot, dusted with sparkles, with the words “I Love My Bike,” to his motorcycle.
It’s the Italian bakery & gelato shop owner who stays open a few minutes late so I may satisfy my sweet tooth with a cuccidati.
And the guy behind the bar who fills my drink order and turns down my folded bill.
It’s the sweet but spacey, headband wearing, gray haired, petite--almost child-like--woman, who works in the college bookstore, who rides her bike mindlessly in morning traffic, helmet on and pants tucked into her socks.
And the downtrodden man on the convenient store’s curb, with his grip around a 40 peaking from a brown bag, who tells my pup “Doggies can’t have beer.”
It’s “The Bubble Man” who creates magic when those iridescent orbs float out his window to dance in the night’s sky.
These aren't the fictional characters whose world of fantasy keep me up, flipping pages in the dark, these are the people who fill the pages of my everyday, who have stories of their own.
The world is my personal pop-up book, tantalizing my imagination and leading levity to my lips.