Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Simone Weil 29

Every separation is a link. A tall unshaven white man in ankle wading pants carries a metal pail from Times to the crackseed store and down toward Subway. I'm buying banana bread outside the plate lunch place from a small shy kid who plays lineman on his football team. His mother doesn't know if that's offense or defense, but she knows he has six cousins and a brother who also play. Before she came out with change, the man with the pail walked by and asked how much. $5 I said and he said “not this time, not this time.” It crosses my mind to buy him a loaf, but I don't. I watch him walk past with his pail. As I open my car door I remember the bag of toiletries in the back seat. I gather together shampoo, toothbrush, moisturizing cream, and set out to find him. I circle the parking lot three times. He's gone.

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