5/5 Will J. 5 years ago on Google
I
worked
in
a
co-working
office
that
looked
over
Campus
Martius,
an
urban
park
with
fountains,
a
restaurant
on
the
green
and
statues.
That's
my
kind
of
place.
I
worked
on
the
Fifth
floor
of
a
building
constructed
in
1964,
according
to
the
cornerstone.
One
year
younger
than
my
age,
I
think
the
building
hardly
shows
its
age.
For
lunch,
I
went
out
with
my
camera
and
snapped
photographs
and
walked
to
one
of
the
famous
Coney
island
shops,
American
Coney
Island
right
next
door
to
Lafayette
Coney
Island.
I
had
two
with
everything
and
walked
over
to
the
Book
Cadillac
hotel
to
buy
a
pack
of
mint
gum
to
cover
up
the
chopped
onions.
The
trees
around
Lafayette
Greens
have
grown
taller
since
my
last
visit.
The
lavender
had
yet
to
lose
its
purple
leaves
and
yet
I
noticed
no
tomatoes
on
the
vines.
I
resisted
picking
the
ripe
blackberries
growing
on
the
brambles
rowing
in
a
sculpture
garden.
I
knew
the
man
who
had
brought
the
cheerful
robots
made
of
found
metal
scrap
to
the
garden
at
least
five
years
ago.
Tim
Burke
makes
them
at
his
studio,
Detroit
Industrial
Gallery,
sharing
Heidelburg
Street
with
Tyree
Guyton.
We
once
stood
on
a
sidewalk
and
chatted
as
thousands
of
people
walked
on
by
us.
His
car
had
been
decorated
with
plastic
Godzilla
statues
standing
up
to
the
hood
and
trunk.
I
was
happy
to
see
a
collection
of
several
in
a
space
encircled
by
brambles
bearing
blackberries,
hopefully
on
permanent
display
rather
than
a
summer
show.
Burke's
sculptures
have
stood
in
Lafayette
Greens
for
long
enough
that
maybe
no
one
will
remember
to
move
them.
I
wanted
to
strike
up
one
conversation
in
the
garden.
I
said,
matter
of
fact,
"These
are
flowers
that
look
like
they
are
looked
at".
Not
quite
how
T.S.
Eliot
puts
it
in
the
poem
in
four
parts,
the
Four
Quartets.
But
close.
Her
face
reddened.
"I've
been
trying
to
grow
this
kind
of
flower
for
years,
every
spring
since
I
lost
my
sister.
These
were
her
favorite
kind
of
flowers".
"Marigolds"?
Not
even
a
nice
try,
but
a
polite
guess.
"Black
Eyed
Susan's.
They
grow
wild
but
I
cannot
cultivate
them
in
my
garden.
I
keep
trying
and
failing.
This
bunch
is
perfect".
I
decided
to
tell
her
a
story
to
inspire.
"Let
me
tell
you
a
story
and
then
I'll
leave
you
to
contemplate
the
flowers.
A
fellow
from
Ohio
was
a
great
hunter
and
guide
to
hunters.
He
always
helped
his
clients
bag
a
limit
of
geese.
And
the
geese
knew
him
as
if
the
geese
could
gossip
about
him.
Geese
would
flock
on
the
lawn
and
eat
grass
and
let
children
watch.
But
the
geese
always
fled
Jack
Miner.
He
bought
land
on
the
north
shore
of
Lake
Erie,
planted
corn
and
grass
and
dug
ponds
for
the
geese.
However,
it
took
ten
years
before
the
geese
trusted
him
and
would
land.
And
soon
hundreds
and
hundreds
of
geese
landed
every
spring".
"I
need
to
be
Jack
Miner"!
She
looked
full
of
deep
emotion.
"Yes,
be
like
Jack
Miner",
and
I
strolled
off
between
the
raised
beds
of
salad
greens.
I
pursued
another
morning
strolling
the
streets
of
downtown
Syracuse
like
an
annoying
mosquito
of
a
paparazzi.
I
caught
the
baker
who
delivers
french
pastries
from
the
Stoop
again
and
he
asked,
"What
are
you
taking
these
pictures
for
today?
Do
you
work
for
a
magazine?"
"I
mostly
put
the
images
on
Instagram,
a
study
of
Syracuse
in
the
morning".
"Here!
Look
yourself
up
on
my
phone".
I
found
his
pictures
from
the
week
before
and
he
chuckled.
"Boom",
I
said.
It
seemed
to
be
appropriate
to
say.
He
chuckled
again.
And
he
ran
off
to
make
more
deliveries.
