| Can you spare a cigarette, ma’m?
‘ cause he owes me a dollar, you know?
-No, I don’t!
(the wind blows an acrid smell)
It’s the dead, man
the dead, down below.
(pace-pace-pace)
Can you spare a cigarette ma’m?
I’m trying to get my act together.
I drink no more.
So, wuz up man?
I thought you were gone.
You owe me a dollar, you know?
And, who’s is that bag?
-Don’t kick it, man
it could be a bomb.
Can you spare a cigarette, ma’m?
No more crack for me,
No more.
Maybe dust.
Just kidding, you know?
And, what’s that smell, man?
-The dead, man,
the dead down below.
Anyway!
Another day
another dollar
for them up above.
(pace-pace-pace)
Hey, you!
You owe me a dollar.
-No, I don’t!
Can you spare a cigarette, ma’m?
-Fine, here are my cigarettes,
I’ll be on my way now.
Well, God bless you ma’m.
And, what is that smell?
-It’s the dead down below.
Man, you owe me a dollar!
-No, I don’t.
(pace-pace-pace)
Sir, can you spare a dollar?
‘ cause he owes me some money,
you know?
Hey, watch that bag, man!
It could be a bomb…
Patricia Ríos
NYC, 2001
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