Ferral Willcox

Conversation with Joe

I was walking along 17th Street with my bike just past the church at the corner of 17th and Sansom when I saw you. I pulled over, pulled in my bike, held it somewhat like a shield. I was thinking it had been a long time… You said: It’s been a long time since I’ve run into you. I said: Yes it has. You looked at my bike and said: Nice bike. I said: Nice hat. I looked at the large box you were carrying. What’s in the box, I said. You said: It’s the box for the hat; I just got the hat. I said: It must be a very fine hat to deserve such a box. You said: Oh, it’s like stamps; when you buy them now they’re wrapped in plastic with a cardboard backing. I said: Yes, excess packaging–the hallmark of our culture. You laughed and said: Do you still have your shop? I said: Yes. You said: It’s hard, keeping things going, you know, with things like rent. I said: Yes, expenses–the opposite of income, wondering if the spirit of Mamet were hovering nearby. You said: Well it’s been nice seeing you. I said: Yes it has. … a whole flowering of things I’d like to tell you dispersing in the air around us. And you walked on; and so did I, shaking my head, feeling sad that I knew so little about you now, where you’d been, where you were going. I just knew you had a new hat that came in a nice box and that I was walking on 17th Street with my bike. And I knew you were walking towards City Hall and I was walking the other way.