I was on a bus on my way to a new school, a high school on the south side of Chicago. I transferred to that school because I had moved into the area. The bus went south over a dark brick road bridge--it was dark because it was a gloomy day out--like the sky was heavy with rain. This new school was completely new--metal framework with floor-to-ceiling windows, open floors. The class body was mixed, with a majority being black and white students. I went to the second floor to wait in line at a check-in window. A very chatty boy behind me bumped into me and as I turned to look at him, we both felt an immediate attraction--we are both brown, we are both alternative. I'm reminded of my husband, I remembered I have a husband--maybe in that life or another--so I keep the boy in mind to feel less alone but ignore him as I wait in line. I'm outside in the vast woods that is the campus of the high school. There is a pond and there are green rolling hills of different sizes, all moving l...
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We were downtown, my grandmother and I, when I saw large flocks of birds from different species flying North. I turned from looking East to looking directly above me: a grey concrete disk combusted and turned into a huge fireball falling quickly in my direction. Once it came closer, the fireball disk started to disintegrate and huge chunks flew in all directions around me. That's when I yelled for my grandmother who was still standing East of me, about two concrete slates of sidewalk from me. I turned West and ran to an open black jeep (very similar to the ones in Jurrasic Park) and told my young brother, who was seated and buckled in the car, to make sure our other two younger brothers had their seatbelts on. My grandmother, now my passenger, was also putting on her seatbelt. The road was crowded with people trying to get to the expressway. "I'll just take the streets", I thought to myself. While everyone on the road drove North-East, I drove West. I was now on a r...
(inspired by Joe Brainard's I Remember// https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/joe-brainard-i-remember) I remember the first time I learned the hand signal for ‘head’. I was wearing my ‘I heart NY’ shirt, sitting across from a boy who just flunked sixth grade. I remember the first time I saw a home with two wives. We (the kids) ate pizza and talked about Star Fox. The adults all had tortillas in their hands while watching Congo. I remember the roads we took while driving in (or out) of Mexico. I remember Spanish rock ballades about flying love and who to call ‘daddy’. I remember one long night in a van when my aunt banged her fist against the drivers head rest yelling for him to stop the car. She had to puke. I remember feeling like the van, so heavy with passengers, could easily fall into the abyss because it was pitch black outside. The only light came from the radio and the van headlights. I remember shopping for Christmas clothes with my dad...