You make the same you make the same mistakes you do.
A song repeating in your head and a strongsong at that.
You make the bread to make the paper to make the fire a little lighter
Another random thought built out of stories the wind weaves through the trees on eerie dusky nights from when you lived on the farm on the suburban street on the big rock under the willow tree.
Childhood smiles and swells with words and frothy mouth and rabid dogs that bite you while roller skating and
No matter how many times tongue twisted and battered and fried, I grew up in suburbia. It was largely white and multi-cultural,we were segregated from the black communities downtown and so were our schools, sothey bussed kids oin and yes our schools were always mixed with kids from every neighborhood in Wilmington, but at school,the segregation continued. As I got older and older,Middle school to High school lessandless people of color were in my class. Back then, I thought it meant Black, of African descent and I didn't think to incorporate the brown kids with scientist parents in my neighborhood into the same category.i didn't include Asian kids,Included whoever was poor and seemingly struggling, so the poor white kids too,and those kids lived in smaller houses than me,and in my world. I felt this huge divisions between simply what was upper class and lower class,what could you buy,what could you show off,did you have fancy adult parties at your house? Did You hold sleepovers? Was Your Dad living at home?
Because if you lived in apartment and didn't have that much of a yard but your Dad was home.
the lillies and spindled things ornaments and rings
and walks in the park,meant alot to my dear child heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment