Letter from Jamaica

I sorta walk between two worlds. Hillside Avenue is the bridge. Although some would argue its bad too. For me, I can walk that street at any hour. One evening, my coworker drives me home on Hillside and he says, "This place is mad ghetto." He doesn't understand. Or does he? Police cruisers reveal themselves with their lights and sirens while gathering around an accident while fire engines meet them soon after. I tell him, "Welcome to Hillside!" He laughs.

One side has my gym. Its the more questionable of the two. They call it the Ave. (pronounced Av) Jamaica Avenue a wall-like part of town. Both sides of the street lined with stores. One night I walk down this street. Its about 9:15pm. I come across somebody fiddling with one of the storefronts. I walk by like any other New Yorker. At about ten feet a voice tells me, "Keep walking white boy." The words intrigue me. I become excited, yet I keep walking. I was younger then.

Jamaica Estates. Quite the neighborhood. A lush and green suburbia with lovely McMansion's. Many with their own taste in place. My church is here and it stands on a hill. Quite symbolic for a place of worship. Every special holiday I come here with family. Together we celebrate the mystery of faith. Now it makes me sad. To read the stories. Such powerful words and yet, what makes them so hard to apply in life. The reminders it gives me, its too much nowadays. What has become of me?

Hillside keeps me fed. All that I eat at home I get from that street. I can leave my home in the blackness of the night and get a pizza. What a time to be alive! One of my favorite chains closed it doors to me. It now stands like an empty shell, waiting for another to take its place. I try and buy groceries and yet fast food paper bags continue to fill my room while packets of soy and duck sauce multiply in my kitchen draw.

Love? Have I had such a thing here? Two in fact. One was like fire. She was older so I called her my Lady. We had met here. A man tried to woo her in Fresh Meadows. He failed. Then she called me out by the bus stop. That's what started it all. The other was different, I had met her over the information super highway. She shined in the moon. She made me very happy. What do I have now? They are gone from me. Who can say why we grew apart. From both. When you're different, it's not like it should be.