Imperative
Talk to yourself like an idiot — no wonder everyone stares. To the right, step to the right, now left, step again to the left. Run your errands like everyone else. Run, see Spot run.
You, yes you with the glasses, stop gawking at me. Go about your business, keep moving. All of you keep moving, there’s nothing for you to see here.
Help someone else. Take their arm, assist them; I’ve been doing just fine on these streets without anyone’s help my whole life.
Sure, honk, asshole. Go around me if I’m not moving fast enough, bridge and tunnel crowd are the worst. Go off to your matinee, see your show, ignore the world.
Get outta my way, move off the curb. Move. Move. Move outta my way.
Go, with the flow, to the stairs. Step up, again, again. Use those stairs, easier than the ramp. Step away, take your hand off me before I scream.
Enter through the automatic door, best invention ever. Stand in the regular line, there’s nothing wrong with me. Ignore the offered seat. Look past the shorter counter. Thump ahead. Slide forward. Thump ahead, slide forward. Get ready early? Thump ahead, slide forward. Turn around. Don’t offer me anything. Stare back at the child in the stroller. Smile back. Attempt a wave, make that child laugh. Feel the tension grow greater, not lesser. Thump ahead, slide forward.
Take your time, no rushing. Arrive at the counter. Enjoy the eye contact with the attendant, no hurry, all the time in the world. Open your bag, find your grip, lose your grip, find your grip again, take out the envelope. Try to speak. Find the word. Try again. Know you won’t be understood or even heard. Let them guess. Buy one stamp. Attempt to handle it. Give in. Take the help. Try to pay for that stamp, while everyone waits, looks away. Use the heel of your hand, line it up, push. Try again until that card slides out. Wait. Credit. Wait. Put it back, slide it in, slide it more. Say thanks. Ignored.
Turn to leave, look in their faces, try to see their avoided eyes to cause them even more discomfort. Walk out with that slide-thump of yours. That automatic door again, wish those were everywhere. Go out that wonderful door, know it will stay open as long as you’re there without another’s hand upon it. Feel the breeze dry the sweat from your body. Adjust your bag against pickpockets — feel disbelief that someone robbed you last month. Now use the ramp, easier down.
Head for home, you’ll be there by dinner. Enjoy another day of errands in New York City.
