This spring I was riding around on First Friday in the Crossroads Arts District. I went to a bunch of galleries with some friends, ate some free food, drank a few free beers, and sat on the ACME dock with my friends and talked and did poems for them. I rode home about 11 pm. By the Arts Incubator and YJ’s snack bar I saw some daffodils lying on the ground. I stopped and put my foot down and picked up the flowers (this is the advantage of the bicycle – you can stop anywhere). I was riding around sniffing the flowers. I got about three blocks and realized, “These stems are broken, I can’t put them in a vase. Plus I have daffodils growing in my front yard right now.” I decided to ride around until I found someone who needed them.
I rode past the Mexican groceries, Tropicana, the Mexican ice cream store, and restaurants on Southwest Boulevard. I figured I’d see someone outside smoking. Then, at Royal Liquor, I looked over and saw a car parked with a woman getting out of the back seat. She was pulling a bag out of the car and someone in the car was pulling the bag back in. I rode up to her and said, “Here, it looks like you need some daffodils.”
She had this look of abject terror on her face and thanks that someone had interfered in the situation. I said, “Is everything OK? Do you need anything?”
She had a big cut on her thumb and the guys with her said, “Do you have some gauze?” I’d been sewing patches on the rear of my pants that day from where my bike seat wears out all my pants. I tore some of the black patching cloth off and gave it to her. Then she took her bag and went in the liquor store.
One of the guys followed her in and the other guy said, “Don’t do anything stupid, man.”
I asked the guy remaining outside, “Are you OK?”
He said, “I’m fine. Tough night. But I really admire your creativity.” Then I turned my bike light back on and rode off. Yes, I knew I was riding into a domestic violence situation but she really did need the daffodils, at that exact moment.