Glare from sun on high rise towers. Bodies packed in narrow streets, pushing
toward destinations not my own. Pause, remember--exit subway green line at
Kowlon Tong, then straight on Pike towards the harbor. Now standing poised,
knees braced against oblivious shoves of passersby, faces block street signs.
Memories of the map, unrecognizable. Horn blares, green light, humanity sighs,
then lunges. Tug on my sleeve--"Real silk, very cheap... Key chain, see--like
Buddha." Lost, gripping bags, too embarrassed to consult the paper folded
in my pocket. Look for harbor, see only neon, glass, steel, humanity. This
was not on the map.
[Jana Haritatos]
