I met an old man at Third Calvary Cemetery.
Dueling anecdotes.
He had family there,
explaining his presence among the whistling tombs.
I never thought of the boneyard as a place to make friends but when he walked over and started shooting comments and questions I said hey, why not?
He asked if I had family under this ground.
I said I was looking for Annie Moore.
Suddenly, so was he.
I told him where to find her: Third Calvary, Section 20/3/F, something like that.
He said he could take me to the rooftops of Rockefeller Center.
He invited me up there, to see what the tip of New York feels like without fences or railings. Roofless. Tapered access to impossible horizons.
Do yourself some cartwheels, slip and slide off the firmament.
He talked about coyotes reportedly seen at the cemetery.
I described geese at First Calvary, geese that frighten me so.
Rabbits.
We had a remonstrance about factually inaccurate information inhaled from the Internet.
“I went on a guided tour and they told me…”
I said “If you went on the guided tour that I think you are talking about then I am not surprised. Most everything that depends on THE INTERNET as primary source material is full of shit.”
Silence.
Quack.
I said “Fuck the geese.”
He nodded: “Geese are a pain in the ass.”
He invited me into his automobile.
I remembered Ronnie Hawkins’ line: “I turned 41. I don’t mind dying.”
I handed him my newly-printed business card.
He gave me his phone number.
We will be in touch.
