Skip to main content

About house parties and freestyle music

There was a house party at Shorty's on Artesian and 49th.
We wore our  butterfly skorts and kswiss shoes, our hair gelled and split, with two thick strands of hair  tied tightly behind our heads. Slick.
We pre partied by spending hours looking in the mirror. we looked so damn good at 14.
We walked from 52nd and Talman to the party. At 50th and maplewood, we see Moreno making his way, too. We all thought he looked kinda good, but whatever.
Once we got to Shorty's she came to greet us at her house door, her lip liner flawless and her curly hair crisp with herbal mousse.
Her beeper went off and we walked in, shyly.
Prototype played loudly through the mix board speakers, the single floor house was filled with boys. We walked to the couch and sat down, our knees inward.
Shorty's back at the door, Mikey!, she says, I turned my head and took a look.
He was tall, with a white shirt showing beneath his unbuttoned shirt. He had boot cut jeans that layed over his black combat boots. A silver chain hung from his front belt loop to his back pocket. I still get butterflies when I remember that image of him. Mikey, Mikey.
I turned back around. I had made my choice. That boy was going to be mine.

Comments

Post a Comment

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...
Post a Comment
Read more

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...
Post a Comment
Read more

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
Post a Comment
Read more