He said his name was Metro. Just like that, he said it, out of the blue. So I said, “Yeah.” Nothing more. The way he looked at me I could tell he was thinking he’d seen me around and knew I’d seen him around, too, and after saying hello just once he could come up to me a week later and tell me his funny name.

I was on my way to meet Cuddles who had the smoke this time. I had my mind on herb and didn’t really see him until he was close enough to speak. “Metro,” he said. I thought he was asking for directions. But he stuck out his hand, ’cause it wasn’t a place he was telling me, it was his name. I felt a load on me from the moment he spoke. All I said was “yeah.” He didn’t take the hint. He waited for more. Maybe he was thinking the cat got my tongue and he wanted it. I looked closer. He was about my height and build. Had wavy hair, not stringy like mine. He looked like any regular guy, except he spoke in a drawl straight out of Gone with the Wind, then changed back to a normal voice, like my voice changes sometimes, but not that bad. He said again his name was Metro. What could I do? He waited for me to tell him my name, but I never did. I finally said, “You know what you are?”

“Metro.”

“Shit, man, you better get out of my face.” And I left him standing there, looking like he just lost some money or came home to find his apartment broken into and his stereo and favorite record gone. With the wind. How do I know he even had a stereo? I don’t know. He never invited me in to smoke dope or listen to records. Which is the only reason anyone would go with him. With a name like Metro, what would you expect?

I didn’t expect nothing at all. The third time I seen him walking into the corner building, I knew he lived there. I wasn’t meeting Cuddles that time. I didn’t know why I was even in the neighborhood. You get used to meeting friends in the late afternoon and it gets to be routine. Metro was dressed in a suit, no jeans, no flannel plaid, no white undershirt poking from inside the open collar. He looked like one of those Wall Street businessmen, he looked so square, so regular. He might have been somebody’s husband or somebody’s father even though he wasn’t that old. You should know about fathers. They’re the most important people to a kid trying to be a man, when everyone is out to get you or fix you into a can or a crate going six feet down.