Say the word Love beneath your breath.

Say it at those people you think need it the most. Vagrants and hustlers and young men sleeping under bridges and old men blowing on their hands and women in bus shelters at 6am. Love.

Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.

The man on a bench by the river talking to — himself?


The woman pushing a cart full of crap (her best things) down the center of the avenue.


The people in their cars, warm and impatient, honking at her, then taking the opportunity to text and sip some coffee, check their makeup in the mirror.

Love. Love. Love. (They have their own crap, are broke in their own ways, could be lonely, struggle, you don’t know).

Love. Love.

Believe that it makes a difference, knowing that it doesn’t.

Love. Love.

That they might feel it when you say it, somehow. Love.

That it might be the beginning of a change for them. Love.

Cycle past them. Walk behind them. Whispering.

Love. Love.

They might look up from their newspaper or their hands, dismiss it as the wind but wonder all day long. Love.

Begin with the obvious ones. The shabby. The cold. The red-eyed. Love.

Then, notice how the more you say it. Love.

The more you see how everyone needs it. Love.

The lady in the heavy coat, fumbling with her coins as she feeds the parking meter. Love.

The long-haul truck driver. Love.

The man sweeping the stoop. Love.

The couple holding hands in the park; he glances at my legs and she follows his eye and hates me. Love.

The children on the swings and seesaw. Love. Love. Love.

The pigeons, the gulls, the geese. Love.

Everyone. Love.

Say it. Love.




Start with one person and soon you won’t be able to stop.


Soon this short, single syllable will become a chorus, a throb. a sustained humming.

Love love love love love love love love love love love love love.




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