Mark

04-27-2013, Sunday

Love Park, Philadelphia

“Hi Mark! Shell we do another painting? I wont you to look my way this time.” “Shure.” “Can you sit here for a better light?” “Shure.” I worked silently, and then asked, “Did you see your son?” “I haven’t seen him for a year.” “Is he all right?” “Last time I saw him he was.” “What is he doing?” “A year ago he was seeing a probation officer, and what he is doing for living I don’t know.” He squeezed a flee between his fingernails.  I noticed that he was watching me. It was strange, because he was as cool as he could be as I was examining him intensively in the way of a painter. Only now and then he would glance at me clearly trying to figure me out. “Thank you, Mark. Today parking was free, so I can buy you a hamburger. Let’s go to McDonald’s at the corner.” As we went, I noticed Joe on the steps. “Hi, Joe!” “I am a different man,” he said smiling. At McDonald’s Mark ordered modestly. It only cost me $2.65. “Thank you for being modest,” I said. “Are you going to order for yourself?” He asked. “No, I will go.” On my way back I stopped to talk to Joe. “How are you doing?” “I don’t want any paintings.” “Why?” “I have a different face… it is not my face… all criminal charges against me are false… it is not my face…” “What are you saying, Joe? It is your face.” “No. My face is skin and bones… I have cellophane face… all charges against me are false… I don’t want pictures or photos…” His voice was harsh, and his speech was inarticulate. This was the best I could decipher…