Sometimes the stories are attached to people I pass on the street.
I take the stories home and make them my own.
Yesterday I saw a story in a red hat and fishnet hose running down the street waving for a taxi.
I wasn’t fast enough. That story got away.
Today I saw a story on the Broadway bus.
It was attached to a bedraggled little woman wearing a sparkly witch hat.
She had a sign hanging around her neck.
I read the sign as the woman came down
the aisle. It had a lot of biblical quotations on it.
I just knew she would sit beside me.
And she did. Her sign kept jabbing me in the ribs.
“I had a vision from God” she said.
“He told me that he is sending down a doozy of an earth quake”
I like it when God uses words like doozy I said.
. I got off the bus with the story in my net. It’s my story now.
I don’t think I will see the woman with the witch hat again, but I have the story.
I went to the coffee bar the other day.
A woman dressed all in pink came and asked me if she could share my table.
She had at least 30 silver bangles on each wrist.
I could see she was dripping with stories. She was festooned with stories.
One story got up on it’s hind legs and whispered something at me in a raspy voice. .
I could hear it distinctly when the woman asked me for a cigarette.
The story wanted to tell itself to me.
The story wanted to jump in my net. It didn’t need the slightest persuasion.
It was coming home with me. I know what to do with a story like that.