“I’m standing next to a newspaper box holding the pole. A police car drives past me, its wheels lifting and sliding on the ice before disappearing beyond the Pita House and the video store. The roads are covered in salt. I’ve been staying with my friend Jackson and I’m wearing his large red flannel jacket with the blue padding inside. I’m hoping he lets me keep it. It’s a comfortable jacket and I’d freeze otherwise. The wind is blowing. In the winter the wind-chill is the only measure that matte...rs. I wish Maria would get here before the cold moves into me permanently. She approaches from the alleyway watching the ground and then looking up and waving. Maria wears blue leg-warmers and gloves with the fingers cut. She walks with her feet pointed away, like a duck. Back at her home she has a poster of Madonna over her bed, lying in a wedding dress, “Like a Virgin” written along the top. This is a dangerous spot for me, the girls’ group home just a block away. The staff there would recognize me, then call people who would force me into a car and take me somewhere, I’m not sure where.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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