Fox Plaza

Bostonian in her immediate
asperity, the rasp,
the Southie vowel drag.
"Package store."

She's a punk rock riot.
We'd talk for hours,
smoke crack cocaine.
I'd slap her back

As she leaned over
the rail, hacking, her blue
dreadlocks adrift
twenty-four floors up.

Linda the junky
was my best friend
for several months in 2007.
I hope she's still alive.

"When it's your time
it's your time," was her reply
to Rob's paranoia.
She and I shared jokes and the sublime.