Wednesday, April 25, 2007

I'm okay.

One budlight and 2 hours of conversation. I met her boyfriend. He's nice. I want to do some girl talk, but his English is good enough to understand. I want to tell her that he seems like a good fit, that they seem happy, that their giddiness is so refreshing, to savor it.

So we part ways. Besos and "let's do this again soon" and I walk north. At the other end of the same corner, I decide to call her. She wanted me to meet her new man. I want to tell her that I approve and am so happy for her.

It's windy.

My cell rings but I haven't put on my sweater and the wind is kissing my shoulders too roughly. Whipping me. There is a pay phone ahead so I slide into a stall like a colt in the Derby... anxious to hear her voice and to gush before they reach the train.

That's when I feel another body next to me. Much taller. Much stronger. He picks up the pay phone, but drops in no quarters. He begins talking into the receiver with "hey baby, you look sweet - fine - your booty is juicy. turn around and look at me - is your face as sweet as your ass?"

I feel a few more men behind me and am cornered. Don't panic. Decide. Decide.

There are five others and the one staring down at me is still mouthing off "into the phone". A quick glance in the opposite direction reveals that three are laughing and encouraging him, while two are embarrassed and hanging off from the group. They are uncomfortable. So am I.

I close my cell phone and dart from the booth. Toward the two that are letting this happen, that want it to stop.

He punches me. The man next to me has punched the booty he was drooling over and I am amazed. I whip around with my finger up to his face. He is amazed.

"Hey, hey, hey shorty! It was an accident. I didn't mean to. Shorty calm down, it was an accident."

"It wasn't an accident."

His hands are up to his shoulders in defense. My butt hurts and I feel dirty. The other boys are laughing... and nervous.

"Come on, shorty. Don't hurt me. Let's make nice."

"Walk in front of me. All of you. Go."

"I didn't mean no-"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!!!!!!"

This is the fighter that was stunned a moment ago and has had enough. I run. Zig-zag across 8th Avenue and amazingly, nobody honks. I hear them laughing, but don't look back. I just run across the street, walk fast down the next block, and the next...

Shaken up. Breath short. Tears threatening, but back.

I'm okay.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007


sometimes, i watch movies,
and am the bad guy.
i blow up ships and do that jump actors do
when they're running away from an awfully close explosion.

i read books, and am scared
of myself.
the vixen with the long hair,
green eyes hiding her fear,
passion turning each page.

i can see myself stretched across a canvas,
bright red orange yellow

but when i look in the mirror,
i only see what i really am.