city of enlightenment

i took a picture of this plant - let's call him henry - on a windowsill in ABC Cafe yesterday morn.

"i don't want my stem to rot," he said. "please don't let water touch my stem, love u."



the fragile girl who took our order - let's call her moonshine - had porcelain skin, flaxen hair, and marble eyes the color of midnight.

she ambled s l o w l y over to the table and sort of asked us if she could get us anything.

"i'd like a cup of organic coffee please."

nothing.

"see, right here on the menu?"

no recognition.

"it says that you have organic coffee on the menu. right?

her marble eyes rolled from me, to meg, to jess, then back to me.

i felt confusion. then doubt. then shame for silently berating this delicate ivy league(?) flower.

i pointed to the menu, which offered only two kinds of coffee - HOUSE and ORGANIC - and i gently shook it, hoping the words would detach from the page, float through the air, and melt onto the palm of her hand, since she held no tablet or pad of any kind.

suddenly a faint light danced around her glassy eyes. she nodded slowly and coffee was produced, along with two saucers of soy milk.

moonshine delivered.

this is the ithaca i know and love. the real ithaca. you experience these kinds of things everywhere you go: the plant with the feelings of its own; the half-stoned, half-genius girl with no common sense; the embracement of whole foods.

being around these things makes me want to bathe in vat of patchouli oil and knit big woolen sweaters and have a compost pile in my yard and tote organic produce in a canvas sack made out of bamboo and ride around in a chariot with my first born, Sage.

ithaca is enlightened.

i could live in ithaca. the girls think i would go crazy after a few weeks, but i do believe that i am a hippy at the core.

even if i don't nest-up there, i know i will make that trip forever. or at least until i am so old i can no longer climb on top of a barstool and order a maker's mark for $2.25 at micawbers. or act like an idiot at iron kettle farm. or act like a poseur in front of my school. or take the same pumpkin picture that i take every year. but that day will never come, because i have my lady friends.