Today I went down to the playground. Not St Mary’s park, it’s a battlefield between rival gangs and a drug haven, just the school playground. You know, the one around the corner where even the weeds have a hard time staying alive. As I walk there, I recalled the dream (MOV – Video Link) I had last night. I dreamt that the park was surrounded by low-cut grass – as far as the eye can fathom. I dreamt that the swing set would actually work & that the basketball court would not be covered in shards of glass & bullet shells. I also dreamt that one day this would be real.
When I get there I feel the humid and stale smelling air that surrounds the playground. The bum laying next to the gate stopped me from entering, not physically, but just from his presence. What’s the point anyway – I convince myself – no one to play with.
So I decided to head over to the Prospect Ave train station. I walked several long, dark blocks just wondering around. Walking under the shadow of the Westchester Ave EL staring to the top of the buildings, to see which one actually had it’s top up in the light. The dark, chaotic street with the blaring banners, that provided the only lights; and the blaring horns, that provide the life of the street; had a few scattered buildings that survive the chaos. These blocks,with the broken-brick facades, broke up the long blocks where tumbled-down building and empty lots loomed.
The dark streets do not get a ray of sun cutting thru. The only ray of sunshine is my destination. The tiny, red-bricked hole-in-the-wall novelty shop with the screaming yellow sign. This shop, where even just two persons standing makes the place look packed, was craving for attention. They changed the merchandise to see who will respond, who will keep them alive.
Lucky for me, they started carrying those new miniature, hot wheel toy cars with the bright red paint job, crazy header pipes and the big, exaggerated rear wheels.
I spent the afternoon hiding out there, living a new found dream.
