Poetry of Issue #8                                      Page 24

Street Wise

The Drilling Company moved from Ludlow Street’s Parking Lot and I forgot to bring their new address with me. Walking out of the F train down Essex Street, the burly guy I’d marked for assistance walked across the street when he saw me stopping beside him. But I got more than I bargained for when I saw 5 girls conversing on the corner and decided to interdict them to ask for directions. My eyes fixed on one of the 4 white girls while asking for assistance, though my heart was with the black chick who seemed too hip to give me the slip. “She’ll help you, the white girl said as they all continued talking. Then, “What are you looking for?” my Nubian princess asked me as the others dispersed, leaving me in her custody. Maybe they were asking for directions too? “I’m looking for Orkard Street,” I said phonetically. “Orkard Street? You mean Orchard Street,” she corrected me, like a teacher in grade school. I did the same thing earlier with an Asian girl who got me there in the first place. I had to repeat the street I was looking for 5 times before she maneuvered through the thickets of my mispronunciation. “Yeah, Shakespeare in the Park. Yeah, I know it!” she said with cocky insouciance as she rummaged through the options on her cell phone. I was afraid to take too close a look at her, but she was breezily gritty with looks to match. “Shakespeare in the Parking Lot,” I corrected her, while biting my lip, lest I usurped the agency I banked on. It was the only time she fell silent. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare in the Parking lot,” she countered in defense, “They used to be on Ludlow Street.” My affected shyness complemented the surging interest I took in her. There were bars all over the place, so my guardian and her cohorts must have been of age. But I don’t like subverting the kindness of strangers, so I barely looked at her. Yet, though I saw a chic chick, I heard a teamster. For she was cavalier using a popular 4 letter word, and it wasn’t love! “Okay, this is what you need to do. And if somebody tells you something else, they’re fucking lying!” Her cavalier cusses were filtered through her genial, rough-hewn personality. She tossed them about like dressing on a table salad. Hell, she was Rosie Perez in the body of Zoe Kravitz. “I tried small talk to ease my nervousness as she hustled to get me on my way while 2 of the other girls were signaling for her to join them across the street. She nodded impatiently, as I played up to her. “Yeah they’re doing a play there tonight,” I assured her to allay any concern she might have had about me. “I know Shakespeare in the Parking Lot,” she insisted. “Well, you should come,’ I half jested, knowing she was en route to probably bar hopping. “Maybe tomorrow,” I added to cover my footsteps. She laughed, perhaps surmising that I was rising to the occasion. Or maybe she felt I was easy! “Okay, it’s 112 Orchard St. I don’t know where, but it must be a few blocks down from here and if you ask someone and they tell you somewhere else, they’re fuckin lying! Don’t listen to them. See I can’t get a map with this phone here,” she continued as I made to leave - against my wishes - not wanting to try her patience. But patience she had as she now proceeded to map out the address and pointed it out to me on her Smart phone, while advising me what I needed to do. My mind was set to go but my heart was fixed on this pert custodian who was being pestered by her white sisters across the street to cede custody of her witless ward. I reluctantly eased myself from her spell. Was ever captive set free boasting less enthusiasm? I don’t think so.