Frankie smokes on the flyoutside the Duane Reade store,where she works as a cashier.Every break and lunch hour,Frankie pulls on a Camelnon-filter; her head lowered,as if shame accompaniedevery inhale. I tried to figure Frankie’s age.with her slight black figureand defeat etched into the lines on her face, Frankie looks older than language. When I stop for a quick, “Hello,”Frankie attempts to speak. Shebarely has enough oxygen to … Continue reading Choke Talk by Mary Shanley