to the older black woman who lived across the street
the one who'd always been nice to us
when no one else would even speak
to us whites at the end of the block
and spoke spanish whenever we were
within earshot, to insure the proper
distance, but not her, and the next time we saw each other
She said, "that one about Death and dying
and your friend in the ditch accident
and can't take all the death anymore...
that one I really liked, that
one made me cry...
My son died, you know
he was young, about your age, just turned thirty-four
and I get so depressed now, I see a therapist and all that
but those were so true, I loved them...
You really made me cry
with that one. Thank you so much
for sharing those
with me."
After I thank her for the compliments
I thought...
Money, sure as hell
isn't everything.
9'98
