So, I was walking on St. Marks yesterday—just snatched a slice from Gino's—when I quite literally bumped into an old acquaintance of mine...and when I say acquaintance, I mean drug dealer, and when I say drug dealer, I mean one of the craziest dominican dope peddlers I've ever met in my life with 20 bags of uptown that would send you to the moon for a night. Moving on... He'd just gotten back from doing a few year bid at Five Points, (real classy joint by the way), and lets just say that when he left..well..we weren't exactly on the best of terms. So he sees me..I see him..we see eachother, and we just kind of stand there while the usual parade of east village types walk past us. Now, I've been clean for a while now..so he's not really used to seeing me looking..healthy. Of course, he was upstate so he's looking jacked and really fucking angry. Prison will do that to ya'.
Now, nothing has been said yet mind you. Maybe ten seconds have passed when suddenly, my brilliant mind comes up with this to say. "How was prison?" Really? I know. That was best I could do at this impetuous moment? This cross roads in life when old dealer and client see each other again on the street? Apparently so, because that's what I fucking said. Heres what he did: He clenched his jaw—hard. For a second I thought his molars might pop right out of his mouth. Then he spits on the sidewalk, the kind of spit where you do it through your teeth, and walks past me. As he's walking past me though, he say's this. "Just got some fire shit from BK. 80 a sack. Hit me up." And that's it. Now, I don't know what this exchange says about the dealer/user relationship..but there it is. Life coming full circle one day on St. Marks.
Now, nothing has been said yet mind you. Maybe ten seconds have passed when suddenly, my brilliant mind comes up with this to say. "How was prison?" Really? I know. That was best I could do at this impetuous moment? This cross roads in life when old dealer and client see each other again on the street? Apparently so, because that's what I fucking said. Heres what he did: He clenched his jaw—hard. For a second I thought his molars might pop right out of his mouth. Then he spits on the sidewalk, the kind of spit where you do it through your teeth, and walks past me. As he's walking past me though, he say's this. "Just got some fire shit from BK. 80 a sack. Hit me up." And that's it. Now, I don't know what this exchange says about the dealer/user relationship..but there it is. Life coming full circle one day on St. Marks.
. And well-written!