5993. FAIRY TALES

FAIRY TALES

The line lends the semblance of all belief :

'Can I take your arm as we walk?' Something

like 12th street, where the old days had it all

different - a butcher, a sawdust-floored corner bar,

a tailor and a presser in one place, the simple store

that sold fine paper, and the very old man who ran

a small restaurant that prided itself on 'Polish'.

-

Now it's not much the same. I walk along and see people

as if from another world  -  the girl there, in a summer 

dress so sheer I can see; the other, with tattoos like

filigree up her arms and her leg. The inside calf and

all where else. Those two guys, hugging as they walk,

gay as a world of gaiety may be. 'I love the way you walk.'

-

Once there was a cop here I knew, 'O'Boyle' his little 

name-badge said. I'd see him most near everyday, and 

we were nodding friends. He had that little stick or club

they used to carry, with the greatest leather loop I'd ever

seen. Yes, yes, and he'd whistle and twirl it as he slowly

walked; the rounds. It was stunning, and all way like a

Dick Tracy cartoon or something, less of course the

'wrist-radio' communication. O'Boyle was alone.

-

OK, this bar here, Swenson's; I kissed you once for

a quarter, as I recall  -  back when those crazy kids I

knew, Frank and Paul and Philip and the rest were willing

to put up a dollar and swear me a drink. Gosh, you were

easy, and willing and warm. I loved Bedford Street too.

-

Thanks, you. Me.