August 16 2007

This is a true story. I was walking west on Clement Street
today when I stopped at a crosswalk to wait for the light.
I was wearing a mustard-colored sweater and it was 12pm.

A blind man came up next to me. He had a walking stick and
a pair of odd glasses. I guess he wasn't entirely blind but
he had all the accouterments. He turned to me and said,

"You're very good-looking."

"Oh!" I said. "Thanks."

"Just delicious-looking," he continued, as though he were
appraising a pineapple.

He had a round face, about 40 years old, Chinese.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

"Yeah!" I said. "Are you?"

"I'm still looking for the love of my life," he offered,
without affect, still smiling.

Oh! again.

He asked: "Have you found the love of your life?"

I answered him and the light turned green. We stepped off
the curb. I felt a pang and an urge to end the exchange on
a good note.

"You'll find her," I said. "Or she'll find YOU!" I had meant
to sound sunny, not flippant (or threatening).

At the end of the day it occurred to me that he was the only
person I'd spoken to outside of my family, and I thought I
should write it down in case I forgot.

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