silverstein

Shel Silverstein is one of my favorite children's authors/poets. Sometimes I think I read too much into his writing...but mostly I think we're just on the same page. :) Here is some Shel for your afternoon.

I asked the Zebra,
are you black with white stripes?
Or white with black stripes?
And the zebra asked me,
Are you good with bad habits? Or are you bad with good habits?
Are you noisy with quiet times?
Or are you quiet with noisy times?
Are you happy with some sad days?
Or are you sad with some happy days?
Are you neat with some sloppy ways?
Or are you sloppy with some neat ways?
And on and on and on and on and on and on he went.
I'll never ask a zebra about stripes...again.

. . .

My skin is kind of sort of brownish yellowish white.
My eyes are greyish blueish green, but I'm told they look orange in the night.
My hair is reddish blondish brown, but its silver when its wet, and all the colors I am inside have not been invented yet.

. . .

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

subway stories

I met an old man in Korea. And by met (in this case), I mean watched/stalked on the subway. Everything about him made me so curious...and he reminded me of Mr. Fredricksen...so I kind of couldn't take my eyes off him.


Imagine...

He wears large square glasses and a pouty mouth--one that looks like he'd been fighting a smile his whole life. He wears a neatly pressed gray suit, black shiny shoes, and a blue tie that matches the bright bakery bag that he clutches closely to him.

He takes out what looks like a slender cake box from his bag and looks at it admiringly, examining it and silently praising its perfection. He gently puts it back in the box.

He pulls out a comb out of his jacket pocket and brushes the neatly combed white hair on his tan, slightly freckled bald head.

The subway doors open and people start to fill in. An unsuspecting, elderly lady takes the seat next to him. He scooches over (annoyed), peers suspiciously from the corner of his eye and clutches his blue bag a little bit closer...


I snapped a picture when the moment was right.....

...or maybe not. Looks like he's looking right at me now. ack!

My mind started to wander at that point...whose this man and what's in that bag?