Bumped

by Mike Foldes

“The graveyards here are so very big,” she said,
As we drove through Queens, then Bronx.
“Those graveyards are filled with the bones
of people who put this city on the map,”  said I.
“It’s 500 years we’re talking about.”
On the Cross Bronx, she said,
“Those walls look to be 100 years old.
“It must have taken a lot of money to build.”
“Not taking into account sweat equity,” I said,
Weaving through traffic under the elevated
to get to Tremont, Webster
and the impacted ramp onto I-95 South.
“I bet they’d kill me if I got out here,”
The white girl said at Arthur Avenue.
“They won’t kill you,” I said, “My daughter
went to school here. She survived just fine.”
“This part of Bronx is Little Italy,” I explained.
“Where everyone gets bumped…,” she said.
“Bumped?”
“Bumped. Like in the movies.”
“Oh. Bumped. Like in the movies.”
“Where are the Italians?” she asked.
“Bumped,” I said. “Like in the movies.”