On Minna Street near midnight…“Like blouw, dare you go dawgs,” Black said, passing me a blunt. He was posting outside when I got there.“Get that head right dun, get that head right.”Black was a Puerto Rican albino with golden eyes. He’s from East New York.“…know what I’m sayin. They used to dump bodies in my neighborhood all the time,” he said. “Yo I was suppose to go somewhere way way beyond San Francisco, but I ended up here. Ran out …
Category: short story
This was my first night staying in a hostel. Sitting in that room anchored me from drifting in the currents of the city’s streets. I was cut away from eyes and bodies that could see and touch what I could not hide. Staring out the window, smoking a splif, and eating a burrito, I was happy to, if just for a night, watch the world instead of it watching me. I got reborn taking a shower. The hot water was …
Confederate Statue, Lake Eola, Orlando, Florida 
Confederate Statue, Lake Eola, Orlando, Florida 
Confederate Statue, Lake Eola, Orlando, Florida 
Confederate Statue, Lake Eola, Orlando, Florida 
Confederate Statue, Lake Eola, Orlando, Florida 
Confederate Statue, Lake Eola, Orlando, Florida 
Confederate Statue, Lake Eola, Orlando, Florida
Blacks built America’s infrastructure and economy. Nothing will change that fact. Leave them statues alone. They are evidence of how the “victors” intended history to be written. I don’t want to forget that, and I don’t want my child to either. Reproach their significance. The real battleground is our children’s schools. They need to know that the face of horror, which is generally associated with blackness, actually exists in our forefathers. The Amy’s and John’s of America need their perceptions …
“You shut the fuck up and wait,” Tom said, pointing his finger at the driver honking at him from behind. Tom was a big-bellied fat man. A pistol and a pocketknife hung from his waist. Framed by ditches on both sides, Tom and Pops talked from their trucks, blocking the narrow two-lane road. In the back of our van, my middle brother Peter and I were sitting on tomato boxes. “Geeze,” Pete whispered, putting his head between his legs. “The …
The 2016 Presidential Campaign, the murders of unarmed black men and woman, and the rise of white supremacy have turned me into my wife’s interpreter for making sense of what’s going on over there. She’s a lot more aware than I give her credit for, but I try to ease her anxiety about living in the states. “White people crazy as hell,” I blurt out. It’s the only thing I know how to say. It’s what I heard my southern …
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