Organic motion against orderly, settled and therefore settling historically conscious handsomeness. Primary color light rail to the three glass wall stop shoving aside tiny cars. Grass triangle parks, picnic tables pulled up prams, municipal workers unwrapping lunch, a smoker looking down sometimes at his paper, young people absorbing sun on Parliament Hall square. Ride along the river from techno beat midafternoon gin folding chairs to someday novelists on stairs to graffiti compositions to kick the futbol to thread between hand in hand romance to a floating town pool to city vital tumult.
Tonight we put on our going out clothes to meet the dressed up Vienna sophistication and pedal in almost night’s dark, warm fingers weather and the cycle routes well loved instead of crowded. Pairs side by side slip into single file for oncoming, relaxing toward destination, ordinary and of all ages, just getting somewhere. Pass three women headed out to a club or for drinks in party dresses on city bike share bikes. Everyone with lights, no one with helmets. A ferris wheel from at least two movies you have seen. Dinner behind the opera, grab our two tall beers and sit at the fountain. Famous cake at an outside cafe, later Saint Stephanzplatz, church spot lit, restorations underway with a dramatic contrast between the dark sooty untreated sections and the pearly clean ones.
Paths back home, quieter now, listening to our cassettes twik against the stone off our shoulders, the branches over us.
Joe Cruz 