.................................
Boxes
.................................

Today, I kept an 18 year old kid
from going to jail for 30 days.
The judge and DA couldn't understand
why I put up such a fight.
"It's only thirty days"
they told me. "He can do that
standing on his head."
But this was a good kid
who had never been in trouble
who had a lapse in judgment
and left the scene of an accident
but returned, within minutes.
I told them, "That's easy
for you to say
but things can happen
to you in jail; bad things
whether you are there for a year
or just one day."
I prevailed
and returned to my office.
In the lobby of my building
I held the elevator door
for a man carrying a heavy box.
He thanked me
then gave me the once over
him in flannel and jeans
me in suit and tie.

.................................
The Line at Immigration
.................................

I pass it in the mornings
winding around the block
up Broadway and down Worth
thousands of them everyday
- here because someone told them
the streets were paved with gold
- because no one told them
about the twelve hour days
of driving cabs or waiting tables
- no one told them that "freedom" means
not only they will be free
to observe their own customs
but the offensive habits of others
will be observed with impunity as well.
My old girlfriend used to tell me
"If they asked me before they came here
I'd tell them to stay where they are."
On a crowded Chinatown street one day
she was bumped by a Spanish woman
who angrily shouted at her
"Why don't you go back where you came from?"
Exasperated, she replied
"What about you? You're not from here!"
She used to want me to go away with her
to live in Vietnam or China.
It was out of the question at the time
but someday they will all be here
then maybe I'll go live over there.

.................................
The Bust
.................................

You could hear her wailing a block away.
The N.Y.P.D. peddlers squad was trying
to handcuff an old Chinese lady
on the corner of Broadway and Chambers.
Lunchtime gawkers gathered on the sidewalk
between the struggle and the police van
they brought in to confiscate her cart
loaded with "three dollah" umbrellas.
Then it started to rain.

.................................
The Man Next Door Died Last Night
.................................

"They took him away
in a station wagon"
my wife told me
when I got home from work.
I flashed back
to the day I met him -
telling me he moved here
because someone on his block
had sold to "niggers".
Whenever he went away
his scruffy mutt would howl
mimicking the voice of his master
who constantly complained
about my kids
bouncing the basketball
in the driveway
or running through his yard.
I killed the dog one night
by spraying him with a garden hose
in single digit temperatures
and I would curse his master's ass
whenever he protested
the kids shooting hoops
at the basket on the garage roof.
But when his wife died
I went to the wake
and he threw his arms
around me and with tears
in his eyes proclaimed
"My neighbor!".
I hardly noticed
that I hadn't seen him
at the train station
in the mornings
for a couple weeks.
When I heard they said a mass
for him over at St. Anne's
I got to wondering
what he'll find
to complain about
in that silent white place
where there are no children
or other undesireables.

.................................
Washington Square Park
.................................

And so here we are
sitting on a park bench,
watching a soot colored squirrel
climb a dead tree.

You're acting paranoid
about being downtown
and I'm kicking myself
for bringing you here.

I keep making the same mistake
over and over again,
as if programmed
into some compulsive loop.

The odds are against us, Maria.
You've come with too much baggage, anyway.
Your kid's afraid of carrousels
and your husband's got a gun.

.................................
Virgil Hervey
.................................

 
Copyright © Virgil Hervey
May 1996

...a cycle of poems in this room by LeeAnn Heringer...
...on the wall -- my private wall...
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