I don’t remember the year exactly. It could have been 1965 or 1966. I do remember being in the fourth or fifth grade at Public School 30 on Staten Island. Certain things stand out. The neighbors with three blonde daughters … Continue reading Hank’s Wall
They live upstairs. They are big, ponderous people, endlessly shifting from one end of the apartment to the other until my ceiling creaks like an old ship. They scrape chairs across the hardwood floor. They spring open what has to … Continue reading The People in Apartment 22
