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hair and face.
“The friggin’ bag burst on me!” He yells, wiping himself
with his sleeve.
“Dump and move, remember” I say, and I can feel a laugh
building up in my nose. “What’re you doing standing over there
anyway”
“I was just up on the step watching!”
“This aint a sunset, you dolt,” I say and let go laughing.
“You’ve got to wait until it’s done compressing before you step
up.”
Hearing the pop and the Kid cursing, Skip hobbles over to
check out the mess.
“It’s just a love-quirt, kiddo,” he laughs and wheezes. “She
does that sometimes.”
The Kid can’t help it and starts laughing too. I look back
at the spilled trash. The people in suits bustling past are starting
to notice, walking roundabout or hopping over it lifting pant legs
and skirts.
“We’re not in Harlem anymore, Toto.” I say looking at the
Kid. “Let’s clean this up.”
We both bend down and start plucking garbage from the
asphalt. It’s mostly crumpled paper, some old socks, food-stained
packages, plastic bottles, and a few stringed tampons with little
red tips. Then I see something, something small and shiny. Even
smudged in waste it sticks out amid orange peel and paper envelopes,
soaking up all the light and sprinkling it around. I kneel
and pick it up. The Kid sees it too.
“Eh-yo Buff, what is that” he straightens up and walks
over.
It’s a ring. A tiny loop of yellow metal fitted with a glassy
rock the size of a marble, like one of them bouncy ones for the
kids.
“Let me see,” the Kid takes it from my hand. “Holly shit!”
He brings it up to his mouth, puts it between his teeth and bites.
“What’s wrong with you” I say and cringe.
“Why” he looks up. “My uncle told me that’s how you
22 Writing Tomorrow Magazine