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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 9, Number 4, December 2015


Iris Lee
Brooklyn, New York, USA

A Meeting Out of Time

In a daydream I’m leaning over a parapet of the Williamsburg Bridge while hump-backed autos and horses cross the roadway. My young mother is starting out on her solitary Sunday afternoon walk from Suffolk Street to Brooklyn. It’s chilly October.

She’s dressed fashionably if inexpensively, and her Cuban-heeled shoes are not for comfort but for looks. I’m envying her willowy waist and shining black hair because I will grow up to be short-waisted and “dirty blonde.” I love how she manages the cobblestones and horse manure, which is nothing to her. Her father keeps a horse and wagon to deliver his pickled wares from his little “factory” to his customers

She starts over the Williamsburg Bridge, looks up and sees a curly-haired little girl. Her reticence, another trait I will inherit, keeps her from speaking, but she does give me a small smile in passing. Is she wondering who that child is, perched up there all alone?

Autumn morning
gull wings embroider
the pale sky



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