sunday walk

With no where in particular to be on a Sunday afternoon, I went for a walk with no particular destination. I headed for the river, and since I hadn’t in a while, I turned to walk away from the city. I walked past a man teaching a woman to ride a gleaming new bicycle; the road was closed to Sunday traffic as it is all summer, but on this chilly mid-spring day, not too many people were taking advantage of the vast expanse of pavement. I spotted a lone, twisted carcass of a bike on an MDC bikerack, near where a man tossed a tennis ball to a over-stimulated black lab. Geese picked at the grass, unmolested under blossoming trees.
Farther down, I glanced the road where, in a fading memory, there was an aging liquor storefront from another era (perfect to photograph, I once thought), so I turned that way, only to find that on foot, it was too far away. Still, I walked, with just a vague internal map to guide me. Passing buses reassured me that I could find my way home if I got tired.
Just when my interest in spring blooms and new, unchartered streets started to wane, and hunger pangs began to announce their presence, I spotted a familiar street name, and then another, and I headed for home.

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