Saturday, February 7, 2009

New: Bensonhurst by Amanda Deutch


yes alan or whoever you are. I was in Bensonhurst yesterday, crying and walking as I do wander. I wandered on old streets where someone I knew walked. feeling an indescribable emotion—guilt? regret? no. awareness that someone had asked so often, even begged me to come back here. I declined, lied, refused, “soon, soon, I’ll be back, a few weeks, a few months.” Now walking these streets, I am comforted and overwhelmed knowing how many times your feet must’ve stepped on this very same concrete…for years your little feet walked here, before I was born. I want so badly to place my footsteps in the exact places where you did….and so I walk taking guesses... notice the trees and know they were here when you were…these same oaks, bare now in winter, one year after your death. Bare, but still wise, these trees remind me, they, at least, were here when you were a child walking. Place my palm, fingertips, on mottled pale and dark patches of smooth tree bark. tree bark and pause in the dark empty street talking with you. tears strolling down my faces. I ask you to forgive me as you asked for forgiveness so many times. You reply that I had been here with you , wandering, book shopping all those years before, so it evens out that I abandoned you later when you called me back. and you did call me back. there is no argument there. what hurts is I am aware I ignored you. irony is I am here now because of you and you are gone from this city

Dec 30, 2008

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