crackhead broke my heart

I have a skateboard. Tricia left it to me when she moved to Korea. It has set in my room looking out my window for about 8 months. I finally decided to see if my “skills” were even worth improvement.

It was about 8:30pm on a weekend in Harlem, which means everybody was out on the sidewalk socializing, grilling or playing. There was no way I was going to break my face in front of the whole neighborhood. So I walked the board to Marcus Garvey Park. Once inside I started rolling.

I wasn’t too bad, but still on the sucky side. I stand with my left foot forward like a right-handed batter. It works for me, despite my roommate nagging me about leading with my dominant foot. But of course he doesn’t skate.

My trick skills are extremely limited. After I was comfortable with turns (my turn looks like a merge) I left the park. I wanted to skate home but I knew to couldn’t jump over the sidewalk gorges and plate convergence. And it was dark.

Approaching Lennox Ave. I saw someone who was probably a crackhead loitering on the corner. He had crackhead movements and guarded a large plastic carpetbag. He appeared completely in silhouette until I walked under the streetlight. When I came closer to the corner I leaned to the left to give him room to roam. Crackheads are usually in their own world and pretty much harmless but still. Sometimes they say things but unless it is “hello” I just ignore them.

I was still carrying the skateboard. As I passed he asked “ Are you good?” I ignored his comment and turned the corner. I am not good and I felt like a poser carrying that thing. Then under his breath he said in a defeated way “I used to be good.”

I almost stopped and gave him the board. It was like a line from an after school special. It made me so sad. But I didn’t give him the board. I didn’t even turn around.