by Laura Rodley
She panhandles at the long traffic lights
on corners of Federal and Main,
easier to have people drop money
into her hands.
She used to sell odd homemade clay jewelry
while sitting on the sidewalk,
leaning against the Martial Arts studio.
No one’s buying now.
Today, she’s dyed her hair dark brown,
holds her cardboard sign: Homeless, anything helps,
sits to the left of the entrance of Green Field’s Market.
They rarely ask her to move.
I have no change, not even for the meter,
and walk towards the market door.
“Hey, hey,” she calls, “They’ll give you a ticket.”
“I don’t have any change,” I say.
“Here, I do,” she says, unzipping her tracksuit pocket.
“No, no, I can’t take any money from you.”
Inside the store, I shop, use my debit card,
extract money for her, return.
“Here, thanks for protecting my car.”
“I do it for everybody,” she says. “It’s not good
to get a ticket, it goes against your license.”
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Wendy,” she answers.
Wendy, all grown up, no longer led into Neverland,
protecting my car, sitting
on the cold hard sidewalk,
teeth chattering.
Laura Rodley, Pushcart Prize winner, is a quintuple Pushcart Prize nominee and quintuple Best of Net nominee. Latest books: Turn Left at Normal by Big Table Publishing, Counter Point by Prolific Press, and As You Write It Lucky Lucky 7, a collection of 11 writers' work.
