Читать книгу Breathing Space - Harold J. Recinos - Страница 25

Joselito, the world’s greatest top

spinner living on the block drew circles

for the game even asleep. he knew how

to perfectly wrap an old piece of string

kept around his neck to a beaten

up black toy that fell into his hands

for fifteen cents and with a rapid-fire

accuracy could throw that thing to split

open any other top in a black tar ring.

Joselito has grown old on the block, every

now and then under a late-night street light,

you can still find him throwing tops, then

bending over with a hand on his knee for

balance to pick the old-fashioned thing up.

on those nights, he throws smiles too at kids

spying him from apartment windows questioning

why the old man still plays. the last time

I shared words about hard times crumbling

from the Bronx days, I could see he planned to

prowl the years in front of him searching for

the ultimate game, before letting his tired

soul skip free.