Skip to main content

dream on

There used to be this place on Michigan and Ohio. It's now another neon-colored clothes store for those who long to feel hip. It used to be wall-to-floor music.
Not the best music, mind you, but it was a place that spoke to my young soul.
I dreamed of working there-of opening those cardboard boxes filled with industry-made sounds, which in turn  made the 'ca-ching' sound every two weeks.
Alas, it was not meant to be.
But that place didn't leave without giving me the most memorable of self -conscious memory.
Just another day, walking towards the escalator to go to the toy/stationary section. I decided to go to the loo. Just normal business there.
I began to wash me hands when, a tall, beautiful, long-haired girl straight out of Robert Plant's dreams runs to the bathroom stall. I hear the struggle of her unzipping her pants and the slamming of her bottom hitting the seat. Then, a symphony of gas.
The cry of freedom was heard and felt and it forever changed me, the girl.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

June

This is the second time I see you and you are no longer a little boy.  You're much taller, your hair, you've let grow.  You are a young man with a crown of cornrows.  We meet in the city, with your dad, at a sidewalk cafe. You walk away from my view. Maybe to pick up our drinks.  Your dad speaks to me this time. He's no longer the brooding man on the couch. Y our dads  much older since I last saw you. His eyes are droopy but they rise when he speaks of you and when he smiles. His freckles show more; on his nose bridge, on the high part of his cheeks. His dreds  are thicker but the color is lighter, like brown, smoky, dusk. His glasses are the same thin metal frames from always. He t ells me how well you're doing. How well your both doing. How everything is well. I mention your grandmother- I heard about your mom.  I reach out and place my hand over his-  I'm really sorry.  Your dad's bottom lip quivers and he gives me a nod.  You come...

Riding the tracks

1. Kids don’t walk the fine lines They blur through them To a level misunderstood Where some reach an edge Where elders deem stupid Because they’ve lost the scope To view the glow 2. Remember that first time When you had me shine That exhilaration of riding the line The blue that awesome night When happiness was validated Because it was shared between us I and you have grown And learned from our joys 3. God Do you’ve any idea how much I feel For you? My life is half full Because of you. I can not breath Due to you. Is there a word to describe what I feel For you? All Day Long My chest aches when I think of you Hyperventilating, my hands search the cool ground For you I lay here confused in my head Thinking over Over Over what was just said, Interpretations stop me dead 4. Shall I shut the blinds so you can admire All the lines and cracks and pores Of my home I do, too long to admire To gaze At st...

The importance of the brown round table

It wasn't until last summer that i felt the need to write down my mother's and father's personal stories It wasn't until last week that i felt the value in each individual piece I don't feel value in my other pieces or my work at my office job which helps so many people but what is the value of a life lived in Chicago, as a woman, as a brown woman as a woman who labels herself Mexican and chubby is it only up to me to build this value, to build it inside of me so that others can feel then see that i do belong here that my words belong on this page for you to read