The Boat House, Thursday afternoon.
The park is noisy — summer camps everywhere.
There goes the boat bell, clang, clang.
It is a fine day, so lovely after a hellish yesterday
which included torrential rain, a tornado in Bay Ridge
and unbearable heat and humidity.
Right now I am sitting at a table on the terrace,
having had a slice of quiche (broccoli and cheddar),
a seltzer and now coffee.
An Italian family (well, anyway, they're speaking
Italian — they could be Swiss). Aspetta, aspetta, the
woman, perhaps the gradmother, says to the adolescent boys. The boys are humming something
from an opera — it could be from Carmen —
something martial.
Before me, people are boarding the green paddleboats. Two passengers are wearing their
orange life jackets over beautiful saris.
