Andrew J. Lederer

tulips illustrate the pitfalls of both greed and not knowing your limits, not to mention the delusion of individual exemption from the rules that bind others.

they open and look beautiful and open further and inspire as their petals stretch outward and up toward glory but they don't stop. they want more. more sun, more glory, more freedom and continue spreading past the point of reason until their backs break and they fall into oblivion.

meanwhile, the tulips next to them, only just blooming, ignore the fate of their neighbors. "they were orange tulips," one says of its neighbors. "we are purple tulips. it can't happen to us"

and soon, they too are gone.


i finally assimilated enough new york latin ambience to find myself saying -- as i passed a pulchritudinous beauty in the streets of the east village yesterday -- "hello, mami," or something of that nature. (but not so she could hear it. sheesh.)

so, why do puerto ricans and maybe dominicans and other latins call hot women mommy? i know it's not spelled that way but that's what it is.

i suppose it is a recognition of biological and sociological reality to see the maternal in someone who makes your loins stir, but isn't there something disturbing there as well?

maybe not. (see "i want a girl just like the girl that married dear old dad" and "my heart belongs to daddy" for references of trans-cultural legitimacy.)


here i am -- it's close to midnight and i'm walking through a massive chasidic neighborhood with a gastrointestinal issue that's nearing emergency proportions.

it seems to be a holiday or something (lag b'omer?) and the streets are filled with well-dressed chasids. but there are no restaurants or bars or anything -- not just none that are open -- none at all.

but there are synagogues. large ones, small ones, elegant ones, decrepit ones . . . i know if i go into one, i'll be conspicuous but i think maybe if i say i'm a jew it'll be all right ant they'll let me use the bathroom.

but i'm afraid they won't. i'm afraid they'll say i'm impure or something and that if they let me use the toilet, they'll have to take the seat to a mikvah or ritual purification bath.

i know this probably isn't true. but what if it is? i don't wanna chance the conspicuousness and discomfort and anyway, if they do turn me away for some reason, it'll make me angry and probably make my situation even more of an emergency than it already is. (my kishkes [intestines] will churn.)

so, i start looking for a vacant lot that isn't fenced in -- anything -- and finally i see an off-brand, shithole of a gas station -- pride -- maybe it's the only "pride" station in the world. a young guy and an older one with a gray mustache are standing in front of the small structure -- do they even have a toilet?

i don't know what they are -- latin? indian? but the old guy points and there i am, a jew taking a shit in the only place i felt comfortable asking for help -- a run-down restroom with "love allah" on the inside of the door.