Her boss calls during lunch hour

To a pedestrian crossing at 14th Street: “Am I facing uptown or downtown?” “Up," the pedestrian says stopping. Directions and hybrids blur in the mind while rotating. Apple stand, mint, wheat grass juice, rutabaga, tie-dyeds. Amish wagon to the curb. Sunshine breaks an egg over Phillips Ambulatory. Tall -- for walking -- espresso on ice. Lunch crowd milling. 9.8 per cent out of work. Telephone snapshot of flower stand.

Telephone rings: Señor Carlisle.

“Hello,” Señorita Mill pretends not to know.

“Hello,” he mocks her.

“Don’t mock,” she instructs. “Hell-o,” she says.

“Where are you?”

“Union Square.”

“Is it raining?”

“Sunny.”

“Pick up a Post and a pair of green apples.”