A Garibaldi Comedy : Washington Square Park, NYC
A tree leans in to hear a saxophonist, bass, and drums. Bicycle backpack walks against the traffic. Next to the pick nick tables people are eating their wraps and sandwiches. Baby strollers and baby carriages. Everyone in Washington Square Park pleased by a pleasant day. Who has to go to work soon? I feel sorry for you.
‘Keep park clean’ green leaf umbrella vendor. Garibaldi
pulls out a sword and nobody knows who he is. High heels look like
hammers, plucking out nails with each step. Electric egg-shaped cockpit
of the car parked picking up the trash, the maintenance man. And the jazz goes on. Muted bass and drums. And the tree leans in to hear it.
Camera and fuzzy microphone next to the fountain. A table full of ladies: ‘…you would love it. It’s a romance novel…’
Fuck it. We can sit our Pepsi’s right here to play cards. Lip-dangling cigarette.
Bags and hats. Hats and bags walking by tagging rides on bipeds.
Hi, we were waiting. You were waiting? I was waiting. But at least they all found each other here by the pick nick tables.
Big Union Jack peace sign shirt. Woman, black and green, pudgy, short
red hair, photos the jazz band as the tree gives them shade, leaning in
to hear.
Put your hands together for the tenor sax, for the alto sax, for the ArloFullman flowing on the base. They do indeed have sells for CD’s
only 10 dollars or best offer/interesting trade like those black shades
on the water-bottle-swinging youth clustered around other youths.
Another camera crew by Garibaldi,
but not interested in his frozen bumbling sword extraction. They film
moving people. Motion. Groups of Asian walkers, ladies short-shorted,
showing thighs, head-phone-corded, belly-bouncing joggers. The little
egg car patrols back, yellow-yolked and white. Girl with the shawl
makes an aside, interrupting her drinking motion, deferring
beverage to comment. Confident conversation from the white shirt,
large-pecked. Personal pizza box tossed in the trash. The look after
the picture is taken by a couple: don’t we look darling? my hair is out
of place, I’ve always had a fat face.
Garibaldi photo moment. His chance to show what he is made of. Just get that sword out Baldi! So close to an epic pose but too brittle boned to be timely.
Cream suit, back pack, black pinstripes, flannel, jeans, jeans, jeans.
Gossip talk at the table and the man has little to say: but she knew
she fucked up…she knew what she…yeah and she…but shouldn’t
she…well I thought she…
“Stop that, Oscar.” The dog barks twice more before obeying.
Water bottle, water bottle, iced tea, iced tea, blue floral shirt down to the knees, sandwich.
Pleased to meet you, I have a purple bag, and you? Pleasure is all mine, I have a green one.
Bubbles blown back into the face of a rail-sitter, thin as a rail, nose
also like a rail. White pants with too many pockets. Colored shirt with
too many colors. Too busy, the lines. Simplify! Pony tail tall.
Grey-old walking. Time’s a wasting. What are you doing here and where
did you get those pants? What a skirt! I should put down this clunker
and flirt with her. Cowgirl chique. Hat, bandanna, and boots. Green cotton candy! never in my life…
Once again, we play all the fucking time here in this motherfucking park, you guys get up and lean in like this tree here.
