Red Gems
Red Gems
A middle-aged man in an old wheelchair
moves slowly and with determination.
On a crowded street filled with happy tourists’ feet
his arms look as if
they’d finished an Olympic race.
Since he has no legs, he cradles his wares
between lap and chest.
Today he sells tiny bracelets and anklets.
I pass him gingerly, bearing an awkward smile.
A half-block down, my conscience stops me.
I return to him
crouch down to meet him
pick out an anklet
hand him 40 pesos
his eyes glisten.
Why didn’t I ask his name?
Weeks later, this anklet still
adorns my smooth white skin.
I so love these plastic, shiny
ruby-red gems
held together by tough black string.
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