Thursday, September 09, 2010

Statistics (or: Walking Through Lexington Market on the Way to Work)

At the metro, I don’t take the escalator – too many pick-pockets. My feet crunch on the abandoned peanut shells, cigarette butts, and gnawed chicken bones littering the granite steps. A covey of young men loiter by the exit, voices excited, muscle tees framing black-inked tats. Absorbed in their furtive closed palm exchanges of rolled-up bills for baggies, they ignore me.

Outside, summer’s swelter carries the usual market smells of over-ripe fruit, worn-out peanut oil, and stale urine. I walk quickly, breathing though my mouth. Around the corner I bypass a puddle of vomit and almost trip over the legs of a woman propped against the Market’s brick wall. Sweat pours down her face; I fight the strong urge to yank off her puffy purple parka so she can cool off. She stares at me, eyes filmy from glaucoma or some other affliction, but I walk past, averting my gaze to the crab grass pushing through broken concrete, the spent condoms, the empty vodka nips rolling at her stockinged feet.

Campus security patrols the intersection. We smile at each other, as we do every day, small reassuring grimaces. The ham and Swiss hangs heavy in my lunch bag like a bad conscience. The light changes. I hurry across to the air-conditioned safety of the hospital, to the day of running yesterday’s numbers: admissions, discharges, dollars, death. But first, I stop for a latte, hoping to usher energy enough to feel the morning’s sting.

***

This story inspired by this week's 52-250 theme theme: we are not responsible. Peace, Linda

19 comments:

  1. Linda, your descriptions are absolutely stunning. I felt myself holding my breath at the stench of stale urine, among all the rest of the rot. So very well written.

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  2. Hey Linda - you outline the stark differences between the two societies so clearly, so well. There's no point feeling guilty bout the latte or the ham and swiss - but we do anyway; how can we not. Like Deanna said, rich, odorific, totally realistic descriptions. I may not have been in Lexington Market but I've been in places just like it. Luckily, as the person with the latte and the sandwich, not the woman in the purple coat.

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  3. Yes, description so vivid I found myself breathing through my mouth!

    Lushly written.

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  4. This was so vivid, Linda! And the theme of not being responsible came through perfectly.

    Jai

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  5. I felt like I was the individual walking down the stairs, past the aromas, the human devastation and feeling the weight of that sandwich as if were the guilt it embodied.

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  6. What would she do after pulling that parka down, though? That's where responsibility begins.

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  7. This stinks -- I mean, I can smell it too from your descriptions. Nicely done.

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  8. You absolutely nailed that prompt. Adored the slap of guilt in this. Well done Linda.

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  9. My favorite is the line about buying the latte. It struck me as the type of thing we do when we don't know what to do to help. Well written as always.

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  10. Ah yes. I live in a busy city centre so there's always plenty of homeless folk about to make me feel guilty about my lunch!

    Perfect pitch as ever, Linda.

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  11. whoa. yes, you nailed the prompt. what comes across, also, in addition to the contrast of the two worlds and the guilt, is the utter sense of desolation and bleakness that pervades it all--in both worlds.

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  12. Striking descriptions, seeing what other don't, or try not to, on the way to work. A very rich piece that weighs heavy when it is done.

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  13. Stunning descriptions to this. You show two separate worlds in such a short piece!

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  14. It is curious how the homeless like to wear so many layers, regardless of the heat - like carrying home around on their backs.

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  15. Thanks all so much for reading this story. This is my walk to work, 4 short city blocks. Every day. The people on the corners change, but the futility stays the same.

    I teeter between depression and gratitude when I make this walk. Depression because I've given away my fair share of sandwiches, coins, and apples, and it doesn't make a damn bit of difference to the big picture, as far as I can tell. Gratitude because I can give the sandwich coin, and apple. I think (hope) it makes a difference to the recipient; it makes me feel possibility for something better.

    It's gotten worse, too. The economy has hammered the cities, not just Baltimore, but others -- there were a lot more homeless folks in Boston.

    Mark, your comment really struck me. Yes, the homeless dress in layers -- they are there own closet.

    I write a lot about Baltimore, and much of it sounds as glum as this story. I promise, someday, to write something uplifting, happy, funny.

    But not next week -- that one's already wrapped up. Peace...

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  16. "The ham and Swiss hangs heavy in my lunch bag like a bad conscience."

    That's the line that stopped me and I reread--because it felt so right. Awesome sensory details and so much empathy and futility. Yes, as the others said, you nailed the prompt, but gave a great slice of life--or glimpse into your life.

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  17. Peggy's observation was right on. Awesome sensory details. From the peanuts crunching underfoot to the smell of urine. For good or bad, you forced us to be there with you Linda. Thought-provoking stuff.

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  18. Excellent story. Your descriptions really brought to to life. Well done!

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  19. Peggy, thanks so much for your comment. Quite a few folks have remarked on that line -- and the funny thing is, I almost ditched the last clause.

    Alan, thanks for walking with me to work!

    Eric, glad you felt this one was alive. It was a challenge to write. peace...

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