After a reading at Sacred Grounds, Dan Brady and I took the N Judah to Irving to catch the 44 bus. We were talking about poetry when a Chinese man (about our age) looked up from his reading and smiled at me.
“Hello.” He said. “You work at Clarion. I work at The Pot Sticker down Waverly, remember?”
Sometimes it was hard for me to recognize people when they appear out of context. But I realized he was the waiter who took my take-out orders.
“My name is David. You go to poetry readings? I like poetry too.”
David spoke very good English. I told him we used to have poetry open mikes at Clarion. I would have invited him if I had known.
“What are you reading, David?” He showed me the cover of his book. It was Carl Jung. I was blown away. All the years I worked in Chinatown I had not met one person who had the slightest interest in poetry, psychology or philosophy. David and I could have been great friends. I told him I had sold Clarion. He too, looked disappointed.
I had too many questions but we were approaching our stop.
“Come to the reading at Sacred Grounds.” Dan and I urged him. He couldn’t. He had dinner shift on Wednesdays.
I saw David again some months later, at Eric’s, another Chinese restaurant on Church Street. He was a little distant when he saw me, and because he was working, we couldn’t talk too much. The last time I went to the restaurant, he had stopped working there.
