Читать книгу Stony the Road - Harold J. Recinos - Страница 14

the wind found a little

rest in the pocket of the

old building an inspector

scheduled to condemn just

last week. it has gathered

dust, shouts, sorrows and

joys on the corner over the

years, speaking to the city

in Yiddish, Italian, English

and Spanish always lighting

up the sad dark. we talked

about it standing in front of

Joey’s bodega, seeing the

Puerto Rican kids visit the

store tugging at each other’s

shirts, sipping from the same

bottle of soda, laughing on

those streets stuffed with family

dreams, and every step taken

by them so completely full

of expectation. Victor once

lived in the condemned building

no one imagined defined by

a clock made from Orchard

Beach sand, the lightest side

of heaven and now about to

be tumbled. we chanted adios

on the way to the alley behind

the tenement, carrying spray

paint cans to write our names

on its wall again in fat twisted

letters.