Pushed Down

I was reminded today, loudly reminded. This city I love has a bitterness that sometimes follows right after a delicious swallow of energy and creativity. Walking with my iPod narrating my way through crowds of people in Center City, I meandered through Independence Mall, dodging the folks trying to give me tourist brochures.
I love this city with all it's sharp edges, it's trash, it's rudeness. These are like wrinkles and scars on a wise, wise old woman, who fills me with colorful stories and culture; who brings me back in time, centuries in a moment. I love this city, even, maybe because of, it's wrinkles and callouses. This is why I made a grave mistake today and put my guard down.
I walked through a door, after purchasing bus tokens at the subway station. The man on the other side had pressed the automatic button to open the doors, so I took advantage and skirted through on one side. I found myself painfully and suddenly knocked to the ground. Looking up, feeling a sharp pain in my neck, I witnessed what I had missed. Unkempt, talking angrily and violently to himself and me, was a man I should have noticed. I realized I should have had my guard up. I missed the signs.
I love this city. This beautiful, alive, creative artist of a city. And, I am reminded. I need to use all my senses when I make my way through it.