Down

July 22, 2014

What was she doing here in this hot weather? The day was hot and humid, yet going in and out of the subway would have been too expensive. Her chin hit the sidewalk. It happened almost without her realizing it. One minute she was up and the next down. Her whole body hurt but the chin got the worst of it. he hoped someone in the street full of people would offer to help her up. No one did. he struggled up again as best she could, picking up her purse. She shook her head and on she went. The day was too bright to think about heartlessness.

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Threats

January 16, 2019

Threats

How many threats can there be in this world? How many threats of being displaced, of having nowhere to go, of being up in the air? The suitcases, the suitcases to be pushed and dragged from here to there are a total nightmare. How many feelings and emotions to go through, to repress so that one doesn’t start screaming and yelling out of sheer agony? Self -control is the thing. Self -control is what it’s all about. It works in order to go on, to be awake one more day. But the threats do hurt. They’re a constant reminder of not being safe, not being secure no matter what is done.

 

 

 

 

Years

January 13, 2019

Years

The years pass. The years, so many of them, have passed. I cannot forget you my darling. It wasn’t possible for me to call you darling back them. I was afraid to call you by your name. I couldn’t call you anything. The passion inside me scared me. Being near you was exciting and beautiful. I wanted more and more. I never wanted it to end. I can never forget. Forgetting would be the same as denying my heart, denying my soul.

Remember

January 10, 2019

Remember

Everything—I remember everything. I remember the anguish. I remember your discomfort and my inability to lessen it. You were in pain and there was nothing I could do. That night seemed endless. I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want you to go. How could I keep you when death wanted to grab you? I was losing my friend; I was losing the years we had spent together—the time we had been apart. I couldn’t sleep; you couldn’t either. You sat on your blanket. The bed sores had not gone away. They were big and red. You were my troubled one, but I didn’t care. I loved you. I loved the good times and the bad times too. They came to take you early the next morning. They put you in the back of a van. I followed in a taxi. The driver kept talking. His voice was loud and I wished he would stop. I wanted to say: Don’t you understand? He’s dying and I will miss him forever. He’s more than my best friend. I could say nothing. We reached the doctor’s office. One injection wasn’t enough. Two—you needed two. I cried when I touched your body. Your physical life was over.

 

Something?

January 10, 2019

Something?

He walked by and stopped in front of the woman on the sidewalk. Here, the man said. I have something for you. He reached in his pocket. The coin made a slight noise. She looked inside the cup. A quarter—is this it? You think that this is something? Is this what you call it? The thoughts never made it out. Instead she said thank you. After he crossed the street, she shivered.

 

 

 

 

Home

January 3, 2019

Home

The key is gone. I don’t have it anymore. It is no longer mine. I had to give it up; I was forced to surrender it. But if I go back to the streets and look at the houses, I am home. There is no need to pass by the place where I lived. I don’t have to do that in order to feel that I am in place—my place. There is no other home for me. No matter how often I have to move or how many places I see, the house I lost is the one that will stay in my mind and in my heart.

 

 

 

 

 

Come Here

December 31, 2018

Come Here

The room was dark. She liked it that way. She didn’t want to see what was in the room. The black and white cat made sounds. He cried more than he meowed. The woman walked from the tiny kitchen to the bed. She sat on the edge. “Come here,” she said patting the bed. The cat went from his place in the window to where she was. She smiled and patted the bed again. He looked at her. Her left hand touched his fur. She liked his fur. He needed and appreciated her affection; the fur reminded her of silk and velvet. Silk and velvet were her favorite fabrics before homelessness and eviction became her old acquaintances. “Come here, little guy. Stay with me.” She looked at the person stretched out on the floor.  He had been sleeping for a long time. “Yes, please stay near me and keep me company.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How?

December 18, 2018

How?

How could you? How dare you? What made you think that you could put me in a place where I would feel dressed in rags? That’s how I feel right now. I am a woman wearing a short grey dress with holes in it; the holes are big. It is windy and the wind slaps my face. I am outside in the middle of the sidewalk. I clutch a long black shawl around my shoulders. The shawl is thin and the wind and the cold penetrate my bones. I shudder and I wince. I don’t want to be in the middle of anywhere feeling the weather as if it were my enemy. I don’t want to be here period. I dream of a nice cozy room where I will be drinking a cup of tea. I want comfort; love. I have none of these things.

 

 

Safe

December 14, 2018

Safe—that is the word, the dear lamented word. Safe, as in safety, being sure that one is in a good place. The hope of that happening is over, it is done. There is no safety, no peace, in moving around here and there. There is no safety in getting rained on in the middle of the night. There is no safety in the hated word Eviction. Safety has been missing. It is gone and no one knows where. Safe is being in a nice warm room drinking tea and reading a good classic. Safety is having someone’s arms holding you. He tells you that everything will work out—not eventually as in a distant future but now, ASAP.

Watching You

December 12, 2018

Watching

I watch you. I see you. I look at you. I stare. Disbelief describes my feelings. What has become of you? Why are you this man, stretched out on the floor, this man who is here but not here? What happened to you that hurts this bad? You rarely come alive now. I see brief bits and pieces of the person I care for so much. You are best when you remember the past that once made you happy, the past that is no more. I care about you without knowing why. Nice is hardly the word that fits you. When you are in a bad mood I cringe. It is the end of the story that I am afraid of—the end of what will be it for you and me.

 

Green Bag

December 3, 2018

Green Bag

He was short—he or she was short. The body was stretched out on the floor. A hoodie covered his or her head. He or she wore black pants and a dark jacket. A green bag was next to his or her head. It was Sunday afternoon and the subway station in Midtown Manhattan was busy. People got in and out of the trains. The body slept. It didn’t care about Sunday rush hour.