The Old West End
With a vein of Lucille Clifton’s “In the Inner City” Our mothers left for work before we woke for school in Toledo in 1975 and our fathers left us latchkeys on the windowsill or under the mat in the inner part of the screen door. Our city was marked by demarcation zones of avenues. We...
Between Us
My town didn’t have much, but we had sunsets. Tremendous, spectacular sunsets, as if a Hollywood director had orchestrated the whole thing, lighting crews and special effects enlisted night after night, fulfilling notes that read: Bigger — More violet — Cue the eagle! In their glow we made promises, confessed, forgave one another, believed in...
Potshots
(after Hanif Abdurraqib) I remember guns were a private thing we only used at camp beginning with the potshots my cousins and I took at empty Miller Lite cans the white cans with the red emblem and the time David yelled at me after I discharged the lever action BB gun across the water because...
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