When I landed in Coney Island
I was in luck because Candy sat alone
in Kansas Fried Chicken.
She possessed the soul of a poet
and the body of a sex goddess,
but things had not gone well for her,
I was sure of it,
even though she never spoke
about the details of her life.
“How do you feel? ” I asked.
“Snowing, ” she said,
“just your kind of weather.”
“Yeah.”
“Where’d you get this liking for the cold? ”
“I told you I was born in Siberia.”
“Last time you said Outer Mongolia.”
“They’re close.”
Just then Irving trudged in.
I nodded to him
and he sat at our table.
“I got to have an operation on my leg, ” he said.
“The third one. Diabetes.
After my wife died
everything went bad.
And where I’m living they don’t give heat! ”
“Call Housing, ” said Candy.
“BUMS, ” he exploded leaping to his feet,
only to plop down a second later.
“I had a hard life.
I didn’t ask for a hard life,
but I had a hard life.
My two children I hadda bury...
all sorts of pain.
I force myself to go on—
Memory...what a torment!
Do I make sense? ”
“Yeah, ” said Candy softly.
“The plug has been pulled.
I’m in the bottomless hole! ”
Candy closed her eyes,
breathing deeply, words almost
ready, but not yet.
Irving going on, “I can see why
there are suicides…”
“No, ” gasped Candy.
“Yesterday I fainted twice
trying to tie my left shoelace.
Such a thing! Go know
God hates me. I never knew. Now I know! ”
“Do you need a few dollars, Irving? ” Candy asked,
“to get a good meal.
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poem by Charles Chaim Wax
Added by Poetry Lover
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