Getting on the A in the Village. A wisp of a young man gets on with me, sits down next to me. He's wearing jean shorts, his hair wrapped up in a Rosie The Riveter kerchief. He's preoccupied with his long, sparkly, purple nails. Out of my peripheral, I watch him and try to imagine what his life is like. How different a teenage experience from my own. Suddenly, one of his nails pops off, and lands in between us. He twists around, searching behind him. I pick the nail up and hand it to him. Smiling. In return, he smiles wide giving me an eyeful of shiny braces. We don't speak. But I think silently, "World, take care of this sweet boy. Don't let nobody hurt him."
No comments:
Post a Comment