Main Street feels like a festival.
The small shops have open doors
and wide windows.
Fish and long-tentacled creatures
hang from wires in one window,
colorful dragon-shaped kites fly in another.
Next door, fruits and vegetables fill silver bowls
along wooden tables,
apples and artichokes, tomatoes
and eggplants, cucumbers,
bins full of peanuts and dried mangoes,
a carnival of food and music.
A saxophone hums down the street
to the beating of a drum
and the strum of a guitar.
In the late afternoon,
it’s even more crowded,
a sea of grown-ups, families,
kids from school
shopping or playing,
visiting grandparents,
and always always always
stopping at Dimitri’s Candy Shop
for the crystal clear rock candy
he gives out for free
to any kid who asks.
The shop owners smile when they see me—
I’ve been coming to my grandfather’s jewelry shop
ever since I can remember—
and I do my best to smile back,
but mostly I look toward the ground
because they might ask me a question,
and I don’t really want to answer.