I was standing in the shade bordering an ice cream parlor. It seemed as if the sun was pressing down onto the asphalt streets. I touched my forehead and felt sweat beads beginning to swell. I was counting all the red cars that go by, and smiling at every pretty girl that looks my way. I ran my forearm across my face and went back to my observations. I saw an old man feeding pigeons ahead of me. I wondered if he has any regrets. Is he satisfied? Surely he knew his life was disintegrating into the past. I wiped my face again. A new president was elected this year, I didn’t vote for him. I didn’t vote at all. Imagine my curly head in a voting booth, pulling down a lever for a great American who I believe represents me the best. It’s all a joke.I saw a girl walking across the street. She stood tall and thin, with bright red hair with gentle waves. She had a large “Vote for Nader” pin on her aquamarine knapsack. She was walking into the ice cream shop. I leaned back up against the wall and gawked at her from the top of my glasses. Her appearance was startling. She smiled at me and I nodded my head back and returned the gracious mannerism. James Dean would have laughed at me. She walked in the shop and after a brief hesitation I followed in after her. Her sun burns showed evident in the harsh lights of the parlor. Now seeing her a little better I recognized her from the university I attend. I stepped in behind her and followed to the back of the line. I watched her eyes study the menu overhead. “There sure are a lot of choices,” I say in her general direction.“In what?” she replied, her eyes never leaving the hanging menu.“In flavors.”“Oh, yes there are a lot of choices.”I take my sunglasses off and slide them into the left front pocket of my jeans.“I think I would get the mint chocolate chip, if I were you.”“If you were me?” she puts her bulky sunglasses into her knapsack, “What stops you from being me?”“Uh… Chromosomes?”“No, surgery can enhance your body into the female form.”“Well, I guess nothing can stop me from being you,” I say with a smile.“Oh yes, there is something.”“Oh really, what’s that?”“Me. I’m an ever changing human, with my own personal experiences, my own personal dreams.”I paused for a moment, “Do you think you are always going to like Nader?”She looked at me. Her stare was so concentrated. I wanted to close my own eyes.“Maybe,” she tore her eyes away from mine and moved up next in line.“He never wins,” I say jokingly.“Then he practices his own values, perseverance.”“Perseverance, I believe Wile E. Coyote practiced that as well.”“That was very clever.”“Thanks,” I smile at her and cross my eyes playfully.She reached into her knapsack and pulled out her wallet. She was in front of the register now. “I’d like two mint chocolate chip ice cream cones please,” she said to the cashier.“Are you buying me ice cream?” I say with a laugh.“If I were you, I’d eat the ice cream.”“If you were me, you’d have testicles.”“Wow, not only are you clever, you have class.”“You should hear me when I’m drunk.”“I don’t drink,” she said.“Why not… Are you Mormon?”“Why? Do you have something against Mormons?”“Sort of.”She began to laugh. I could have counted her teeth. I followed her outside and we both sat down on the sidewalk. There was a stray dog eating pieces of dropped popcorn on the other side of the street. The pigeons must have not liked the old man’s gift too much. I wondered if his grand kids gave him any gifts when it was his birthday.“Well do you smoke pot?” I asked, while giving my ice cream a lick.“No, I did once, but I didn’t like it,” she said.“So basically you don’t like to have fun,” I said while chuckling.“Are you saying, one has to be intoxicated to have fun?”I laughed out loud and then said, “I’m having fun, and I’m not intoxicated.”She gave me a smile, and I felt happy. I watched her lick the melted ice cream off the side of her index finger. I was seduced. “What were you doing standing outside of the ice cream parlor?” she asked.“I was people watching, ya know, and I was just thinking about things.”“Do you do this often?” she asked.“I don’t know, it was hot outside, and I wanted to get ice cream. So I was just waiting on some poor sap to come along and buy me an ice cream cone.”I started laughing and she punched me in the shoulder. I over exaggerated the pain by moaning loudly, so she punched me again.“No really, why were you just hanging around?” she asked.I shoved the rest of the cone into my mouth, “I already told you, I was people watching,” I replied with a mouthful of ice cream. She looked down at her sandaled toes and then up into the sky, “There are no people worth watching in this city.”“If you stand in the summer sun long enough, people start to get interesting.” I said with a laugh.She paused for a moment and then looked at me, “What about that old man, earlier, when I was walking up?” she said.“What about him?”“Did you notice him?” she said, and then taking a big final bite of her cone. “Yeah, I noticed him; I am probably the only person who has noticed him in a long time.”“Why do you assume he’s lonely?”“I don’t know, this might sound weird, but I’ve been noticing him for awhile. Whenever I leave the university I stop by here and just watch cars and people pass by, and just think to myself. But anyway, whenever I’m here, he’s there, on the bench, feeding the pigeons popcorn. And I can’t help, but think about him and how pitiful he looks, feeding those damn pigeons popcorn. The pigeons don’t even like the popcorn that much. I don’t know what I’m saying; I just think he isn’t happy about something, something deep that my juvenile mind will never, ever understand.”“Maybe, he thinks the same thing about you.” She said turning her head my way.I feel uncomfortable so I begin to laugh as a retarded defense mechanism, “What do you mean?”“Did you ever think that maybe he just finished golfing with his old people buddies, and now he decided he wanted to feed the pigeons shitty popcorn to get back at them for discarding their unwanted fecal matters everywhere. Not only that, but maybe he’s thinking the same thing about you.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”“Maybe he thinks that you are some poor loser boy who can’t get a girlfriend, so he spends a portion of his afternoon watching… anything.” “But that’s not the case.” I say quickly.“He doesn’t know that. You’re not him.”I stop for a second, “If I were him, I’d find a new hobby.”“If he were you, he’d probably feed the birds.”After she said this she proceeded to stand up. She dusted her lovely bottom off with her hands. I stood up too. I tried to run my fingers through my hair. It was a failure, it’s too curly.

-grant stone