Davis Square Shiva

Late summer in the piazza, i.e. Davis Square. Sitting on one of the black metal benches, other Somervillains scattered around me at shared tables and other benches. I’m enjoying my kiddie cone of J.P. Licks’ Rockier Road, when a wild-eyed, beanie-capped guy in what looks to be his thirties walks straight up to the stranger at the bench to the right of mine – as if guided by a divining rod – leans down, and says fiercely, “You know Shiva? I CRUSH Shiva in my bare hands!” then stalks off. As of press time, Shiva could not be reached for comment.