The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Norma Chapman

DOWNTOWN WASHINGTON, D.C., 1972

Tuesdays and Thursdays, on my lunch hour, I sell
Militants for the Socialist Workers Party at 14th and F.
On Tuesday, a drunk man watches me for a while.
He moves closer, and he asks me to marry him.
I'm already married, but I think about it before I say no.  

After work, I stand in front of the Holloway Cafeteria
across the street from the porno shop, waiting for my husband.
A man in a limo stops and crooks his finger. I'm 41 years old,
overweight, in a shapeless dress. He can't mean what I think.
I shake my head, and he moves on. I tell my husband
I may have been mistaken for a hooker. He doesn't hear me.

After dinner we go to party headquarters. My husband picks
up his Militants to sell on Saturday. I stay to enter debits
and credits in the party's books. The party is teaching me
to be a bookkeeper. Every member learns a useful trade.
When the revolution comes we need to be ready.

On Thursday, at my corner, a man sits on the steps behind me.
He says I'm Bear's girl, and we ride on his motorcycle
in Montgomery County with me hanging on to his belt straps.
I know I live in Arlington, but I see myself with Bear. I don't tell
my husband this. My husband sells his Militants in a tough
part of town. To fit in, he wears blue jeans, but he irons them.




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