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Thursday, May 24, 2012

Sequin Boy and Cindy

I never thought anything good was going to happen to me and then I met this girl.
I saw her standing on the other side of the train platform at Jamaica Station, NY fidgeting with the torn buckle on her faded blue backpack, waiting for the 5:35 to take her out to what I later found out was a group home in Blissville, Long Island where she lived. She’s a pretty girl with blond pigtails, big blue eyes and a great smile. And yet I sense there is something sad or withdrawn about her. Guess that makes two of us.
I think she is staring back at me.
Cindy is eighteen and works in Jamaica as a dental assistant, a job I found out she detests because she’s bored. I guess she can’t help staring across the platform at a strange looking young man in a hooded sweatshirt who appears to have some kind of shiny colored disks on his face, which are half hidden by the hood of his sweatshirt—that’s me. My name is Billy Wolk. I’m half Native American Indian. I have spirit Ancestors.
She must be thinking, what are they, those ornaments on his face? I guess she’s wondering why this strange boy is staring at her.  Probably thinks I look sad and alone. I am. I’m taken by the good looks of this thin girl who occasionally smiles at me. I think she is smiling at me. It’s hard to be sure from this distance. No one ever smiles at me. Sometimes they stare in disbelief. I almost never smile.
Cindy says to herself, “what’s with that kid staring at me? He has some weird shiny stuff hanging from his face. I’m a little scared.”

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