a rose is a rose

i love surprises. i love people surprises.

tonight on the d train a woman was wearing a rose in her hair. i was sitting in that uncomfortable spot on the inside of the L the seats make, so i was close enough to tell that it was real. and it was gorgeous. deep, deep red and sort of velvety, the size of a small fist. it was really lush. and i really wanted to touch it. (i am tactilely inappropriate--i always want to touch things i shouldn't, like sculpture in museums and roses in the hair of a random woman on the subway.) more than that, i really wanted to know why she was wearing it. she was not remarkably dressed, in gray slacks, faded black shoes and a t-shirt that read "save the (i don't know what, it was covered by her tabloid)" over a pink short-sleeved sweater. she was middle-aged and asian, wearing glasses and seemed sort of tired. the rose was not casually tucked behind her ear either, but secured with a long silver bobby pin, a rose-specific pin. it was purposeful. the rose seemed like a remnant of a more festive afternoon. it made her mysterious. and it really made me smile.