Selected Glimpses of Childhood

Selected poems I've written about my childhood.

13th & Brooklyn

I must have crossed this street a hundred times

not as I do now

riding in my minivan

children in tow

crinkling their noses

to be in this part of town.

Back then

I crossed over to reach the liquor store

-long since gone,

replaced with tax-payer finery

in the form of a tidy senior community.

A ghost to my memory,

but tangible still,

its dirty concrete floors

stained with the footprints

of the forgotten many.

Adorning its dingy walls-

faded posters of foxy brown priestesses

with afros as commanding as any crucifix-

seductively offering the penitent a glass of forbidden fruit.

The smell of piss stings my nostrils still

as I remember winos and whores

exchanging trade in the doorways.

As a child I learned to move around them

-quietly

so as not to disturb the wreckage of their lives.

Still I was eager to enter

the array of offerings at the candy counter

calling me as fervently as the bottle calls a drunk.

The cellaphane crinlked sweetly

as I unwrapped my sugar-laden prize-

a momentary respite of pleasure

a mighty conquest for a few loose coins.

It was here that I first fell prey.

Two boys came toward me

from the other side of the street

blocked my right-of-way

in broad daylight no less

right there on the yellow line.

One rummaged through the bag of liquor store groceries

taking my sour apple now/laters,

the other forced open my hand

stealing the change

mamma had said was mine to keep.

-Practicing as I suppose they were

for future 7-Elevens

while I practiced being a victim.

The Little Princess

Once upon a time
there lived a little girl
with two pigtails
that flapped in the wind
when she would run
but she did not run often
preferring to sit quietly
in the grass
making flower crowns
to place upon her head

as she ruled benevolently

over cockroach infested lands

inhabited by

ungrateful subjects

who neglected to invite her

to join their games.