One person says do not wish trouble to fall upon the maker of trouble or it will sew itself to your fingers. You have to pass it like a shopping cart left in the park. You notice the man’s dirty jacket and the dazed eyes of the little boy. Are they related or have they found each other? Another person says be sad and do nothing. Do you remember the first time you asked a stranger for directions as if you were connected in a former life? I met a man who had no opinion I agreed with but because of the curve of his neck and the shag of his hair when he spoke I didn’t listen to his words but looked at his mouth opening like a piano that seemed more delicate than something strung together with steel. How is it possible we mean so much to each other when we don’t know each other? Like a dirty look from a passerby or plans overheard through the bedroom wall. I would prefer not to see my old neighborhood again. I would prefer to hear a saxophone while waiting for a train.