These books weren’t open for no reason. I am thunder, I’m loud but invisible because my mouth is smacking loud trying explain reconstruction and all my home girl got to say is “you talk ode fast, Chris” that is the start of me going mute.
A single note rings on and on, “we have noticed a change in attitude”.
The impact of the rain hitting the ground was actually astonishing, sky was a cloud of poor-ish gray. But as usual the weather didn’t stop the hustle and bustle of the Monday, New York city streets.
I wish I rain so I can just pour into the streets and never talk to anyone again.
But I got stay and sit in this office. My big sister ain’t dumb. I sews my sentences together like any of these loose laced kids. I even know that extra from Senorita Ramos. She knows that my dollar store bright yellow nail polish makes the other boys uncomfortable. She knows that I like to be all tender all over, in the heart, in the creases of my fingers, I am tender. And she knows that if I love to bathe myself in the bright yellow color weather from the sun or in a bright top. She knows all of that.
But she still dragged into that shitty bronx run down and she knew what papi would do about it.
If my body was temple it was being burned. My behind was lit up like lighting. Skin ripped up like a weed wacker. If I was brave I would fight back but I’m a better runner and I ain’t do that either. Took like I always do, my sister knew and cleaned up the mess, my heart and his blues and I moved on something new.
Becoming yellow in the inside.