A POEM - THE OLD CHILEAN WOMAN DIDN'T UNDERSTAND

THE OLD CHILEAN WOMAN DIDN’T UNDERSTAND
I was standing there,
Smoking a cig and talking with an old Chilean woman
Who was standing in the doorway.
Then he came right up to me and said,
“man, I see you staring at me and my girl!
What the fuck is that all about?”
It was the first time I’d seen him
And I hadn’t ever seen his girl.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
I said to him, going right back to talking
with the old Chilean woman in the doorway.
“man, I see you do it! You just stare!”
He wanted to fight and I was beginning
To want to give it to him,
But the old Chilean woman came in between,
And then the little fucker got pulled back by his friends
to his girl, wherever she was.
“it’s the drugs,” said the Chilean woman.
“it’s the terrible drugs these kids do.”
“I don’t care what it is,” I said,
Now staring back at the guy,
Quietly egging him on as his friends held him back.
“no, no, don’t fight. What use is fighting?”
I turned my gaze to her and said simply,
“because it’s fun.”
She looked at me strangely,
Like she was seeing something she’d never seen before
And hadn’t made up her mind about it.
“and besides,” I said.
“I think I could take the little bastard.
As long as his friends don’t jump in.”
“no, no,” she kept saying. “it’s the drugs.
These kids are lost. They can’t see things as they are.
They see things that are there that aren’t there.”
I looked at her again and chuckled.
What the fuck was I doing there?
In that city, that country, the world.
None of it made any sense at all.