Tag Archives: urban
Summer in Brooklyn, hydrant dreaming in graffiti– legends of childhood.
Because we never met, you will forever and always remain the fretted girl behind double crossed scratched glass square rooted Brooklyn train station blues, the soundless frozen fragment of a life running on and outward bound.
There was always plenty of tomorrow-talk, bright ribbons of noise amounting to nothing. What we would do, where we would go, how we’d become this or that. We erected fragile monuments to ourselves, and expected others to pay their respects, … Continue reading
Boy on street corner brown bag in his hand, crinkling– Yo, I’ve gotta piss.
We didn’t talk about it, but we knew we’d never amount to anything, no matter what we did. No matter how celebrated the accomplishment, no matter how big the lie and the audience buying it, nothing could ever … Continue reading
My mother had had a hard life. There have been many challenges, many obstacles, and in a sense you could trace their origins back to her father, her rapist. When your father is also your rapist your childhood … Continue reading
There was a time when kleptomania was all the rage among the women in my family. That is, my mother, and my two aunts, Marie and Rosetta, were robbing department stores and toy stores with casual regularity. I’m … Continue reading
I don’t think they can handle the Juice, Davey Dog sneered a challenge. He smirked with superiority and you couldn’t tell exactly where he was looking, because his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. There were eight … Continue reading