Seven

When I was seven
in 1979, I’d go buy
the paper, for my
father, from Oscar’s
dark green newstand
on the corner of first
avenue & St. Mark’s
Place. Oscar always
called me Oscar when
I stopped by. “Thanks
Oscar,” he’d say as
I handed him the
quarter. “Bye Oscar,”
I’d say, turning
around, and going
back on my way.