Firsts

Children amazed by the smallest high-rise in the city, the ones uptown where the train stops and destitute men with beards sleep in platform shade and wheel chairs. “He’s just tired,” the father tells the little girl. A three-legged dog hops by the window, she says hello. Her brother looks up, pressing his nose against the window where all his freckles reflect like constellations from an undiscovered hemisphere.