Published June 18, 2009
It was that one day that felt like summer in the middle of the endless rain. The kids on the subway were bursting out of themselves. A curvy girl in jeans and a skinny boy in school uniform trousers were sparring around the vertical pole, daring each other to take off articles of clothing, pretending that they might. She offered a seated boy a lap dance. He tentatively accepted, knowing there’s a catch here somewhere. She laughed at him, “No way!”
“I bet you all choke your chickens every single night,” she laughed again.
“What about you, huh?” Ventured the boy she refused to dance for.
“Not me, no way. I’d never do that.”
“Never say never,” said the skinny boy.
“That one I’m sure. Never.”
Then a boy who had been silent through all this said, “You’re what, 16? Say you live to be 90. It’s statistically impossible in all those years you’d never.”
“Statistics is for white people,” she spat back.
Published May 19, 2009
Six antsy cops are guarding the corners against some dark potential I can’t perceive. The kids have been sprung for the day, milling around on the sidewalks. Somehow they’ve all grown great pillows of fat since I saw them last, it spills out of their tight clothes, and now their bodies take up as much of the sidewalk as their voices.
Around the corner on a sidestreet, some girls are jumping double dutch, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, “ice cream soda pop cherries on top / how many boyfriends do you got?”
Published January 4, 2009
kids , oneiric
Two boys, brothers, with creamed-coffee skin and halos of long kinky hair that’s just a shade darker. The older one plays guitar by the doors, the younger one sits on the bench and plays bongos, it’s a halfhearted rendition of “Norweigian Wood.” The younger one’s fingers are gifted, and he is languid. He takes off his glasses with one hand, tucking them into his shirt, still tapping the beat with the other. The song ends far short of the coming stop. The tips are collected in a plastic bag. The train jerks across the bridge. The boy puts his drums aside and makes a fist, which he tries ambitiously to shove into his mouth.
He knows I’ve been watching him. I ask, “Does it fit?” He shakes his head. He tries again, compressing the fist first with his other hand and stretching his mouth to its limit. “Ouch,” he says softly to no one, pulling his hand away. “That hurt.” There is one final attempt, again falling short of success. The train slows into the station, and he slides out after his brother just as the doors are closing.
Published November 11, 2008
kids , oneiric
A platoon of junior-highschool kids striding along the platform in full military dress. An accordion plays.
Published November 2, 2008
A little kid is trying skateboard tricks on the stairs. He keeps falling down. The big kid says, “it’s okay, skateboarders are allowed to hang on to something,” and then he winks at me.
Published October 10, 2008
At certain hours it’s like the shift change in a factory town. A crowd spills out, merges briefly, overtakes the sidewalks and quickly disperses toward home. I’m walking uptown, at each crossing the Western sky is all violet and smog, darkening at one-block intervals. A pack of boys with piercing whistles trails behind me. They are delighted with their disruptive noises, their own unsupervised presence in the stately district to which they are infrequent visitors. All around them the German tourists frown.
Published October 5, 2008
kids , sisters
A young girl is off in the corner, dancing. Her moves are slow and subtle, cleaving to the baseline and the places where it stretches out a beat too long. She’s unaware of anyone’s eyes on her. Her face is awkward, but it’s evident that she will grow up sexy, hard to resist. Her twin sister comes out of the bathroom. She’s stiff and unmoved by the music. But she’s taller, and there’s more symmetry in her face. She will have to fashion herself aloof and unreachable to match her sister’s charms. She leads the way out the door, and her sister shimmies along behind her.