Troll tolls
Tolling trolls
Manhattan
-----Original Message-----
From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
Behalf Of Mark Weiss
Sent: 24 December 2007 20:08
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: A true tale of the season
I live at the northern end of Manhattan, in a building that fronts on
a part of Broadway that's not part of anyone's imagination. It's a
street of small shops and apartment buildings. Beginning at my window
and running for two blocks south along Broadway is a hilly, forested
park. A few benches are planted into the sidewalk with their backs to it.
Each bench seems to be the exclusive turf of one or another person or
small group of alcohlics. The first and sunniest is the property of
Charlie, a black man of about 70 with a crease on his skull that he
told me was the remains of a difference of opinion with an axe, which
is also why he's been on disability for a long time. A lot of brain
function was apparently severed.
Charlie inadvertently taught me about trolls. In the days before any
kind of centralized care, the crazy, if there was no family capable
of maintaining them, or if they resisted living in the usual social
arrangements, would take shelter where they could. Under a bridge was
a good spot, because it provided some protection from the weather.
When disturbed by a passerby the troll would storm out growling, and
the wayfarer would throw him some food or a coin to placate him--in
effect, a toll.
Charlie's toll was cheaper. The first time I passed him I was in my
usual hurry, and he got furious. "You too good to say hello?" What he
required was a minimal acknowledgement that he was there and a member
of the same species. I never passed again without a few words.
It's the day before Christmas, warm for the season and very sunny,
and Charlie was at his post this morning. "If you see Santa Claus
tell him to look for Nigger Charlie. You tell him," he said, grinning
broadly. "I have a hard time saying that word," I answered, "but I'll
do it for you." "Tell him to look for Nigger Charlie. When he finds
me I'll slit his throat." Gales of laughter.
Peace and joy.
Mark
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