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About San Jose

So, this broad, she hops in, smells like cheap perfume and regret. I’m like, “You ever feel lost, doll?” She laughs, “Every damn day, mister.” Boom, straight outta the movie, “Can you keep a secret?” I ask. She nods, I’m thinkin’, “I’m married, but who gives a fuck?” That’s me, Tony fuckin’ Soprano, breakin’ rules, feelin’ alive. But then – fuckin’ surprise – she’s got a sob story. Kid at home, ex screwed her over. I’m pissed now, “Why’s life gotta be so shitty?” I yell. She shrugs, “It just is.”

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Mayor Eric Adams has blamed the rise in prostitution in a Queens neighborhood on an influx of female Venezuelan migrants who are struggling to find other work.

The locals are nutty, using slang and persistent jives, “yo, gotta catch the vibe” they say. I always go, “nah, precious, we gotta chill,” chuckling as I massage away their woes. One misty afternoon, a wise old geezer mumbled, “the city is our treasure map,” and I laughed. Thought, “My precious, ain't that just like a lost boy?” Repetitive echoes of joy, I tell ya.

Dolores A. Floyd