Abeerah

Abeerah walks into the classroom
like she owns it.

Wears a white head scarf
with sequins--

Abeerah,
you know you're not allowed to wear hoods in class
take off your hood Abeerah.
A poochy cheeked boy shadows her.

Shut-up Oreo!!
Abeerah chides back.

I, the substitute, take control
Both of you sit down and be quiet!

It was probably a good opportunity
to explain to them
the importance of being sensitive
when it comes to matters of race and religion,

but I was the substitute,
this wasn't my classroom,
these weren't my students
so I let it go.

I wondered what it was like for Abeerah
September of 2001.
She would've been in 1st grade--
if the student's didn't understand now,
I hate to imagine what it was like then.

I wondered what her teachers did,
if they tried to explain things to the class,
or if
they told the class to sit down and be quiet
and let it go--

hoping that it would go somewhere
far from their classroom
never to come back again.

How drunk were you?

Did you ever talk to the man on the street,
huddled by the newspaper machine
asking you to buy them beer?

Of course you have.
We all have.
It's called liberal guilt,

or brotherly love;
how drunk were you?

I did once.
He told me about his pants.
His brother stole them
from a Seahawk.

They were sweat pants.
I didn't ask him his name,
I wouldn't have remembered it.
He wouldn't have remembered mine.

It wasn't an understanding,
it was a quicker pace.

Account Sent to Collections

this foul lonely cold front
would not be cheered

not even by the mini-van on North Road
equipped with spinners

no amount of green lights
could ease the hateful feelings

I wanted the flowers to unbloom
retreat back to the black earth

I wanted the trees to give up
to be barren and empty

i wanted gold never to be seen
wanted it to be forgotten

wanted time to reverse
stop--forward--back again

I wanted it to be a turntable
I wanted another beer

most of all
I wanted to go back

pay my credit card bill on time.