November 9, 2021 - Skyline Deli & Grocery by Jordan Myers
The first time I was arrested I was arrested for stealing a big bag of Doritos from the corner store on 45th and 9th. I had stolen things from the store before; the owner knew me. His name was Guy, and he and I talked a lot. Especially at night. Guy said he liked working the night shift because that’s when he could think; also, it was a good time to get away from his wife and kids. “Sometimes . . .” Guy would say after a long sigh, “I can’t anymore. I just can’t.” I’d say encouraging things, like Man, I get it ––– I really do. And I think this helped Guy out, at least a little.
He was in his fifties and he said he had lived in Atlanta, Georgia for twenty years, but he and his wife moved to New York ten years ago. She had a job that gave her a promotion, but the promotion meant they’d have to move. It was more money, but because New York is so expensive, it was the same amount of money. Guy and his gal -–– her name is Diona ––– didn’t figure this out until she had already said yes to her boss and put their house on the market down there. The whole thing is sad. She was commuting between the two places for a lot of months because the kids needed to finish the school year. By the time they leased a place down in the Financial District, and paid the broker and first month’s rent and security and everything, they were already tight for cash. Shit sucks. Guy told me the whole thing a couple of times.
Diona is still with the same company, which is crazy. They sell fashion to designers, or something like that. The type of people who drop bookoo bucks on something simple, like a scarf ––– like $795 for a scarf, or even a G. So they were living in New York, and not making the kind of money they were making in Atlanta, so Guy got to thinking about ways he could pull in some cash, and then he got nostalgic about his granddad who used to own a corner store in the south –––– Memphis, I think ––– and that gave him the idea to open the store. It’s not called Guys. I think it’s called something basic –––– Skyline Deli & Grocery ––– or something like that.
The night I got arrested was crazy. Guy and I were just talking and hanging out as usual. I mean, I was in the store and kicking it with Guy. Whenever there’d be a dead moment and no customers or anything, we’d start talking again. He’d ask me about my life, and I wouldn’t tell him anything really, which was cool. Guy and I were friends, but not real good friends. He usually would do the talking, since I was better at listening. So at like three in the morning, I tell Guy that I’m about to head out, and I walk back through the store a couple more times, just to look. And yeah, I snatched up a big bag of Doritos and put it under my coat, but like I said, Guy and I were cool. Next thing you know I’m walking down the street outside the store, and two officers run up on me with their guns drawn. It was crazy. One of them walked around me, put the cuffs on me, and then pushed me to the ground. Then the other one put his knee in me. Those motherfuckers. I remember looking up at the shop window to see if Guy was in there and looking, but he wasn’t. He probably went to the back since he didn’t want to see me get jumped by the cops. He probably felt bad about the whole thing. On one hand I get it, I was stealing things from his store, but on other hand, it’s bullshit ––––– cause me and Guy were cool. And if he had a problem with me, he could have just said something.
Guy’s place was across the street from my mom’s place, but I don’t live with my mom anymore. I live with my uncle, her brother, Paul ––– in Syracuse ––– the sticks. The deal is, I don’t have to go to jail if I live with Paul and go to these drug rehab classes every Wednesday and Thursday night for the next six months. The thing is, I never stole from Guy’s because of the cocaine. The cocaine was just something to fool around with, since I didn’t have a job in the city, and since it made talking to girls easy. I miss talking to girls; and I miss the city; and I miss how easy it was to take those girls back to my mom’s place, show them the view from the roof and everything, and then go back to my bedroom and smash. Syracuse is alright though. Paul’s got a big place, and his son doesn’t ask me a lot of questions. I don’t really miss anyone more than I miss Guy.
November 7, 2021 by Elizabeth Lerman
There are moments when I feel like I am traveling through time. Like through some sensory anchor I am granted the ability to be in two places at once. Is that memory? Maybe not such a phenomenon then - if this is what it’s like to remember. Did I, at some point along the way, learn to feel a moment so entirely that it could be felt time and time again? In June, when the sun shimmered against sidewalks and city streets were sizzling, I kept thinking I was back in Siem Reap where the heat has a pulse, where summer meant rainy season - bringing shampoo outside and waiting for that first rumble of thunder. And water would fall, women would laugh, soap would foam at our feet as we showered in the daily downpour. It’s moments like this that make deja vu feel like magic - snippets of something so specific it seems impossible to live it twice.
October 31, 2021 by Elizabeth Lerman
I walk fast and determined towards my apartment, bracing myself against the first flutters of winter weather. I fish around in my coat’s deep pockets, not sure what exactly I am looking for but knowing the warmth feels good against hiding hands. I stop under a looming street light and bask in the glow of the lamp, its yellow shine making the darkest streets of Brooklyn glow with a soft fog, a gleaming sort of gloom working alone to illuminate the late October night.
October 28, 2021 by Jordan Myers
I had two cups of black coffee early in the morning and went walking around midtown Manhattan. So many things were happening all at once. Making decisions was impossible ––– left or right, north or south, more coffee or a bagel with lox. I found a tunnel between 54th and 53rd street: less noise + a stillness amongst the movement. I sat down on one of the ledges. I let myself breathe.
October 27, 2021 - Everything kept happening so quickly by Jordan Myers
Everything kept happening so quickly. I tried crossing Broadway, but a man on a bike was heading the wrong direction. He was cycling fast and looking a few streets ahead in the distance, so he didn't see me. Then I didn't see him until it was almost too late. He didn't hit me and here’s why: I had jumped onto the sidewalk just in time, and caught my breath.
October 26, 2021 by Jordan Myers
Mott Street was closed. We couldn't find our way to the bridge, so we stood in the middle of the street for a while, looking up at the sky, and watching the lights that were strung from building to building dance and sway in the wind.
October 25, 2021 - All the cars on Allen Street turn left at the same time by Jordan Myers
All the cars on Allen Street turn left at the same time. Mid-day, the light switches from red to green and a gust of wind moves through the leaves of a tree that stretches above the bike lane. The city has its own breath, never steady but always there. A box truck honks its horn twice. A man in a white tank-top and black basketball shorts steps out onto his fire escape: yawns, stretches, and reaches into his pocket ––– cigarettes and a lighter. He leans against the rail and glances uptown for a while. Police sirens. A woman in a red blouse with jeans and white heels tries hailing a cab ––– no luck, she ties her hair up behind her, pauses, then goes at it again . . . a yellow taxi pulls up beside her. She gets in. They drive away.
October 24, 2021 by Elizabeth Lerman
It is a soft sort of fall - crisp and cool and casually perfect like the time we ran away, caught a flight between semesters and walked through the Gothic Quarter, Gaudí on our minds alongside an urge to go everywhere. We shared a small hostel room looking over La Rambla and spent six days roaming, succumbing to wine and cigarettes in quiet corners where the only sound seeping out into the night came from a guitar whose tune filled every crevice of the Quarter, stubborn strumming persisting through church walls, echoing out of small cracks in the stone - and somehow when I take a deep breath here in Brooklyn, I can smell Barcelona in the air.
October 23, 2021 by Jordan Myers
Essex
Serve & volley: l
oads of topspin and straight down the T, you toss the ball in the air, swing as hard as you can, then sprint toward the net. Watch, I’m standing at the baseline ––– catching the ball on the rise, and sending it back just as fast. Fifteen love, five all.
October 21, 2021 - One thousand dreams by Jordan Myers
The third time we met you suggested I bring my bike to Stuyvesant Square Park on a Saturday morning in October. You told me to trust you: the city would be in bloom, and we could sit down for a while and talk. The night before I stood out on the fire escape for thirty minutes or so ––– only watching the moon. An hour later when I went to bed, I fell asleep right away. One thousand dreams, sunlight and flowers.