Other People's Windows

I love my early morning walks around the neighborhood, love seeing the sky turn pink as the sun rises over Brooklyn and smelling the sweet, doughy fresh baked Italian bread. I love looking in people's windows and seeing their coffee pots dripping in empty kitchens as they--somewhere in another room--shower or hunt down cufflinks or try to get their sleepy-headed spouses out of bed. And then there is the homeless man around the corner, or maybe he's not homeless, maybe he's just waiting for the bus in an old beat-up coat, and God bless your baby girl, he says. I love him too.