Chinatown
By Jocelyn Lansangan
There are the drunks again
who would holler from inside and outside
the bars
at 11 in the morning to an 11-year-old girl
Trying to touch her so often that she learned to walk on
the other side of the street
The side with less bars and less drunks
6 years later, her bus passes her mom’s store
just as it always does each morning
She looks out the window to catch sight of her
just as she always does each morning
Yes there she is
She looks okay
The girl puts her head down and continues to do her
homework
Until she gets off three stops later to get to class
3 years later she walks comfortably to her mother’s
store
to surprise her with the flowers she’s just picked up
for her
A homeless man tells her to zip her purse up because
someone might steal her belongings
She zips up her purse and thanks him
She then makes her way to the opposite side of the
street
The one with less bars and less drunks
To have lunch with her friend at the new restaurant that
has just opened up
Then she crosses the street again
The one where drunken hands had once tried to pull on
her pigtails
But this time instead goes into her favorite coffee shop
to order her usual
She sits down at her table
Admiring the work of the latest artist being featured
And she feels home
Jocelyn Lansangan is an avid reader and aspiring writer who lives off of coffee and mac n’ cheese. She hopes to self-publish a book of her poems and short stories in the near future.
“A SHARED SPACE” is an ongoing reader-submitted column. To share your story, email coconnor@midweek.com