Pickup

Tom on the corner, typing into his cellphone with his bike leaning against the streetlight. 

“Yo!” 

“There you are.”

“My bad, just finished dinner.” 

Hamburger and home fries, should have at least an hour until I have to worry.

“No worries, you ready?” he stepped over to straddle his bike.

“Yep, up to Grand Army then down Flatbush right?”

“Yeah, you got cash?”

“Just forty, that’s enough right?”

“Yeah, We can get you like a quarter zip for that, maybe more.”

“Nice, and it’s not shwag?” 

“He’s got some beasters that he sells for less than a hundred a zip, but I’ve just been picking up straight primo. He said he’s got some grandaddy purp which is supposed to be good for sleep and pain relief.” 

“That sounds dope, how’d you meet this guy again?” 

“Playing pickup soccer at the parade grounds. He wants to hook me up so that I play for his team in the weekend tournaments.”

“Nice, you’ve been playing well?”

“Yeah, had a hat trick in one of his runs and then he recruited me. We could use you too when you’re feeling up for it.”

“Sweet, hopefully soon. You ready?” 

Let’s go.

We pedalpushed over the stench of Gowanus creek and up the slope towards Prospect Park, abreast through residential streets without traffic, running the reds.  

“When we get back we can chill at my house, parents are out of town.”

“Can we go up on the roof?”

“Yeah, the silver paint is all dry now. I put a couple of lawn chairs up there to face the skyline.”

Union street narrowing, no bike lane and cars passing fast, Tom ahead single file on the right shoulder, loud downshifting truck crossed our path on fourth ave, and further up the hill we pass through a cloud of tobacco smoke from conversing bar patrons on fifth. Tired legs, sixth and seventh steepening gradient until it finally leveled out as we approached Prospect Park.

“You wanna go through the park?”

“Nah, we’d be going the wrong way around the circle, I got a summons for that a few weeks ago, Flatbush will be faster.” 

Past the Grand Army arch dedicated to the defenders of the union, radial intersection over to Flatbush, sparse but fast traffic so we rode on the sidewalk without pedestrians along the park, watch for bumps between uneven pavement squares…  

rrrrrggggllurrrlggggrrrr

Dinner moving down, might start bothering me soon. 

rrrgllglgrrgg 

Go back or push forward? 

Too far from home to make it back in time.

gggggrrrrrrrrrGGRRgggg

Nearest public bathroom? Somewhere in the park, probably closed at dusk.  

Maybe I can use his when we get there…   

ClnchnnngggggNNNGGGGG

Can’t hold. No pedestrians and cars going too fast to notice me. 

“Yo Tom, hang on,”

NNGGGGG

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just gimme a minute.” 

Dark space between dim streetlights and two cars parked, pants down, squat by the curb…

NNGGnnggggrrglrrrgglllll THBbbtTtbtTh…

rrrggg

Reliefffffffpppphhhh 

hhhuhhhuhhhhh 

A couple dry leaves, do my best, wish there was birch…

“Okay, I’m good to go.”

“You sure? Did you just take a dump?”

 “Yeah man, couldn’t hold it, but I’m good now. He’s got a bathroom right?”

“Yeah…” 

“Let’s keep going then.” 

“Sorry man, I’ll just bring it to you next time.”

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