Two Feet


In all my wheelings around downtown Santa Fe of late I have noticed my world, located about two feet below an ambulatory person’s, is populated with previously invisible (when I walked) characters and intriguing stuff.

It is so fascinating how perspective shifts of a few inches can put one into what feels like another dimension. Which is exactly the truth when you think about it.

I know street people’s names and greet them as friends. They are low down.

The brickwork on that building is spectacular but hard to see because I am bumping around so much from the potholes I’m not looking at.

Also- there are grape hyacinths in the lowlands. Their fierce purple taunting the last flurries.

The man from another country selling jewelry with his constant companion of a cigarette- he always turns away as I approach his outdoor cart on the way to Starbucks.

I want to like him but I don’t.

My friend DANA sings outside in all sorts of weather. I like him. His singing is ok but his soul is the genuine article and I tried to treat him to coffee one day because his chapped hands got to be but he said: “I’m not a coffee guy.”

I stuck a 5.00 bill in his cup in lieu of caffiene and his playing stopped as he just looked at me and said: “Thank you, Cathy. Thank you. Cathy.”

I rolled away fast because it felt too intimate.

All this was hidden before from me. I was two feet higher.

Do these encounters seem of no consequence to you? Five years ago, if someone tried to tell me these things I may have felt pity. Probably so.

But you should be jealous.



One Response to “Two Feet”

  1. nancy ungar on May 29th, 2014


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