Arthur
A childhood friend
Now wealthy
sits inside
one of my memory cells

In the Thirties
when there were not many cars on
big city streets
so when the snow fell
and the paved roads
were well-packed
it wasn't perilous
to find the highest hill
to go sliding down
in our sleds
Our
highest hill
was the paved road
that Avenue
that came down
from
the
Grand Concourse

It was from there
on a cold winter day
after school
when the snow was well-packed
and still coming down
that we'd jump
stomach down
on our sleds
traveling down
between
high rise apartment buildings
to our
main street below

We lived just on the other
On the main street
was our
favorite delicatessen store
where we ate steaming hot dogs
on soft white buns
topped with mustard and sauerkraut

All afternoon
the snow fell
the air was
sub-zero cold
we kept climbing
up the hill
sliding down the hill
As I reached the main street
I would begin to brake my speed
reduce it
by dragging the toe-tips
of my black boots along the
snow-white ground
and scrape the corner of my sled
sparks flying
along the high curbstone
I'd stop in time

On the last sled ride
down
there were no cars driving
on the road
the road icy
full of snow
It was late
late afternoon
the snowflakes
falling on our eyelids
A white-
dark day-
the outline
of things
barely seen

I went first
Arthur went second

How the snow softens
the air
making the city
hushed
echoless
even the wind
is silent
The metal rims
of my sled
on the ice
noiseless

Though I see
that there
are no cars out today
still as I fly down
this great hill
I break my speed
drag my boots
scrape along the curbstone
stop before I reach
the main street
though I know there will be
no cars

But Arthur
he comes flying by
past me
determined like before
so sail across the main street
all the way to our
high rise apartment building
where we live

He plummets down
without fear
And
as he crosses
the main street,
where all the shops
are already lit
past our favorite delicatessen store
where soon we'll reward
our day's
efforts
with steaming hot dogs,
a big old fashioned
Coal Truck
whose undercarriage
sits up high
comes rolling by
to meet him
sailing down

Luck is on our side
God's timing
pushes Arthur
between four wheels
under the stomach
of the truck
to the other side

We sit silent
eating
our hot dogs
no one mentioning
the possibility
of the other
event
Jean
our other friend
almost goes on
to say
"Did you see what happened?"
But before
two words come out
he is stared down

It is best
to bury the whole matter
in a memory capsule

Epilogue

10 years later
when
gathering together
from different colleges
in Arthur's parents' apartment
drinking beer
I mentioned what had happened

"You must be dreaming"
"No such day
no such truck
ever existed..."
I walked down
3 flights of steps
from Arthur's apartment.
Outside the high rise building
when I looked up
at Arthur's window
I saw him
peeking through
closed curtains
He had a funny look
as if to say
someone is
sick
and it is not Arthur.

It is his luck to forget
mine to remember?
Is it his luck to be rich
mine to be poor?