Author Information
Prospect Park
I walked in the park that day.
It was a nice enough day;
Still early in fall so I didn’t need a jacket.
I passed old West Indian men talking nonsensical politics.
I passed Caucasian cyclists.
I passed young women walking with their children.
A woman sitting on a park bench handed a Jehovah Witness magazine to me.
But all I could think about was why we were so hostile to each other.
One argument after another, so many disagreements and misunderstandings.
I took the Q to Macys 34th street wondering if anyone could tell that I sat in the park for a hour and a half because you had things to do.
Wishing I could stop loving you because your treatment was unbearable.
I spent so much time in Macys analyzing, thinking about what I should buy.
I ended up buying shoes.
I ended up trying not to be jealous of all the happy looking couples shopping together and holding hands.
And that night I cried to Mica and took the train all over Brooklyn trying to find a safe place.
After we got into that argument by your cousin’s house, you just left me there.
I was shocked, but also scared.
And there I stood in the middle of Avenue J bawling with my best friend on the phone trying to console me.
And I was thinking to myself “what the fuck am I doing here?”
And when I took a cab back from my best friend’s company that night, I went back to you.
I was so lost.
And as I sat and cried my eyes out on your floor I said “you don’t care”.
And without much emotion you said “I do care Cherie, I love you”.
But I knew as I sat in half orange Prospect Park that day, that you wouldn’t really change.
It’s just the growth between leaving the idea of your love and my denial was so vast.
