10/22
I stand on the steps with A. It’s a cool October morning. And I’m missing fall back home in
southwestern Pennsylvania. The taste
of air crisp as a bite into a fall
apple. The smell of cinnamon and nutmeg
in outdoor cider pots over fire. The last ears of fresh corn before winter
at roadside stands. We enjoy a moment
together before A heads off for work.
Before the day is over, there are more and more messages
from A. Increasingly incoherent.
As Jamie and I are waiting to meet mayoral candidate Bill DiBlasio,
seemingly an actual progressive candidate, concerned about people on the
margins, I get the worst call yet. A is
in a park somewhere. With homies, A
says. Missing keys. And shoes. I determine that the park is across the street
from A’s apartment. I tell A to forget the keys. Just go home. Just go home.
I feel a deep sadness coming over me. All that work yesterday….. Yes, it works. But I hear the in my head the
two words at the end of Leonard Cohen’s Tonight
Will Be Fine that always hit you like a punch to the stomach: …….for
awhile.
Yes it works. For awhile.
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