The Nazi Boys

“Hey, I read about you! You’re a Nazi!”,

blood snaking down from my nostrils, smearing my chin

streaking across my frozen mittens.

Tears iced over my eyes- stagnant, stupefied.

Then Klaus, or Hans, smacked me again, 

wet frigid black leather gloves across my face.

We had just climbed up Overlook Avenue, dragging our sleds, 

when these 3 teenagers jumped the five of us.

Louie was 11, the oldest.

I was 9, the youngest.

 “Fucking Nazis!” I blurted out; wacked again, then kicked a few times for good measure.

 “Jew bastards!” another snarled.

 “Look, the smallest one, the blond curly kid, the only one who’s got guts!”

One of my friends, Harry, took off through the snow.

Then we were four.

I stopped crying.

 “Beg for mercy!” Klaus snarled. “Stand up, Jews!” I stood up, the others hesitated, shivering.

So this was going to be the end.

I took a deep breath and studied the smoke disappearing from my fake cigarette.

It was no longer dusk; the park’s lampposts illuminated the bitter cold vastness.

Not a soul, no other sounds, NYC glittering vacuously through the eight mile distance.

 “Come on, let’s go”, Klaus spat out at last. “They’re not worth it. 

Well, maybe that little one”…pointing at me.

November, 2013

Lake Worth, FL