The St. Louis Snow

I ’ve been telling people my parents got divorced when I was 6. I think I was actually 7. …the concept of time wasn’t that big of an issue for me back then, I had other things to worry about all of a sudden like school work and social structures… I already had so much on my plate, it seemed like, and no one was noticing the lack of portion control.   I remember the moment my parents told Sister and I the news.   Who served who papers apparently is a big thing. I honestly don’t care. My father was willing to stick it out with that crazy person because he valued marriage above all else, including his sanity. But, I can’t honestly imagine them still together, today. My father once joked to me that it was between divorce or “swallowing a shut gun.” I don't know if he thought that sounded clever, but it hurt my soul that he’d have rather take his own life than go to therapy or dip out more graciously. But I'm unsure if that man has ever really unraveled his tangled emotions...

When intelligence is valued over bronze When women are cherished, not objectified When children are praised for existing Building them up for adulthood When wisdom is widely sought That’s the utopia I want in on When things stop being bought And people stop putting their loved ones Up on dusty shelves of forgotten good times And the stronger roughness to wade through The grimes rumage through the wilderness The soul doesn’t want a lot Just a sturdy counter To positivity there alike Put down the screens and look into each other’s eyes Feel our heartbeats in unison The universe would give back more frequently Install more trust, love openly

Imagine it, 2019.  Crickets and I had known each other for about three years, and we had just started dating again. I was mentally preparing to attend a Soccer game one day because, like concerts, soccer games were really important to him. And I wanted to participate in his life, because I had been trained my entire life that that’s how you make friends… involve yourself in your loved one’s activities. I don't think he got the same memo. But of course, I got tired of asking him for attention after we had moved in together.... Anyway, I hadn’t attended a game yet, and I was trying to keep up with the games and the scores and accumulating red and black dresses to wear to tailgating and events because that’s how I like to prepare; I love fashion. So one home-game night, he had gone to a game alone, like he always had before, and after I had worked at my job all day, the plan was to go to his place of business, catch the second half of the game on their tv, and then he show up after th...

Moving through the cycles of life are sometimes more difficult than other times. I have moved 20 times in the last ….35 years of my existence, which is, most of my life. I had lived in University City as an infant, in St. Louis, MO, and then moved out of there, and into Olivette. In comparison, that was like moving from O4W/L5P/Cabbagetown (ATL) to Decatur/Tucker… In Ucity, we had had a neighborhood grandmother, Grandma Velma. According to most who understand child-logic, I thought everyone had a Grandma Velma whenever they said Grandma. I didn’t understand the concept of a grandparent being a parent of your parent until much later in life. My Granna was my Dad’s mom and that eventually made sense around late elementary… but early childhood, I preferred my Grandma Velma, she was local and she loved me a lot. I understood that elders had the title bestowed upon them by the children they cared for. Velma would be our caretaker every so often when Mom needed a break and we would p...

Communication  is a fickle subject in my family. At a very early age, I remember a lot of people wanting me to use words all the time… but my emotions seems clearer to me. I had a lot of difficulty thinking and feeling… and then all of a sudden, I had to make sounds to correlate to the words that everyone else uses in order to convey exactly what I was feeling, but do it calmly! You're a lady, after all… I was in speech therapy for most of elementary school. I also had a lot of difficulty spelling words. What was the point?  If you know enough to correct me, correctly, then you know wtf I'm talking about! I didn’t get along too well with a lot of people just because it was difficult to concentrate and also difficult to understand everyone. And then remember all the details... Everyone had different personalities and different attributes, as a kid… also, I tended to hit (&/or bite) other kids out of frustration… they were being mean, I didn’t know how to express myself, a...

I absolutely adore graffiti. I think it's an apt commentary, modern and acute. It's the opinion of every man, tangible to the naked eye, as long as it's done out of protest, as a crime.  People wonder about the tags... I wonder about the people behind the tags. I love catching glimpses of them on walls and new paint... I love seeing a tagger evolve their work over time. And the best galleries is when you have to sit at a passing train and you wonder about where those freights and cargo containers started. Where were they tagged? Was the person doing the art, were they from where they were tagging? How does one live on the streets, let alone keep up with its decoration? There was one well-known tagger from at least 30 years ago in ATL who tagged a lot of old buildings. You could see their work from the vantage point of MARTA, traveling the east line into the city. A lot of their tags have been erased due to gentrification and renovating the older buildings. Property owners h...

(July 2022) Women in High Society wear everything a magazine or an influencer tells them to don Lacking intelligence to be an individual style, setting their bar on a different rung Heard of sheep, cottage core fits in well to these rolling hills of emerald riches They are lead on a leash of flesh by a gentleman, showcasing the same dress on different bitches 

I saw your shine & was an intoxicated moth Your love remained a raw diamond and fanned the forge of fascination No blazing away bits of oneself to garnish a gleam in every facet Striving through struggle begets strength in one’s shine We are supposed to inspire one another to better our light You wanted to remain a raw, not uncommon diamond   I wanted the Moon

Words carry the weight Of their creator They bind promises They cause wars and joy They mean so much to so many Yet fall on deaf ears most times   Words can float away Without a thought or a care And without supporting actions They are letters strung together In chaos, mumbling nonsense Circling the drain of hope

*italics* indicates Signing…. It is another language, but is difficult be replicated in typeface. . ........ Regular italics are inner thoughts. …................................................................................................................... Jeremy was new. He had been teaching for about two decades in his last district, but after the accident, he desperately needed to get away from the pity and the despair. He wanted to get away from the sorrowful eyes of his colleagues, family, friends, and neighbors. He convinced himself that driving an extra hour to and from his house was worth the six to eight hours of pretending he was ok. If he liked the school, he thought about moving all together, but he didn’t want to worry everyone who was already overly worried, which was precisely the reason for this new start.           Twenty minutes into the first mandatory meeting of the prepweek, before the school year began for 300...

“Hey, you're home early.” “It’s 6 o’clock,” Becky nodded to the mantle clock for confirmation, as she flew through the door, “I get home at the same time everyday. What’s wrong?” She glanced at the sink and sighed loudly. Jeff followed her eyes while he protested, “No, it’s four—” he stared in disbelief; the clock read 6:03. As she set her briefcase and purse down on the ottoman, the dog greeted her with happy licks. The beast desperately needed a bath, probably after playing all day in the dusty dirt outside. Becky sighed again, but quieter. Did she think to herself be quieter out of fear of me darting dirty looks at her, yelling with frustration?   Or is she quiet out of fear of herself? Of getting too upset? I want to make sure I don’t hurt her feelings; that is social anxiety for you, the fear of hurting others. Jeff went to the microwave, finding not even a cold potato awaiting him. He found a dirty plate laid in the sink, with sour cream and a cheesy residue ...

After a night of redneck theater, Mike and Brenda enjoyed a celebratory drink or two at their local watering hole dive bar. They excitedly retold each other their favorite parts of the show. He asked her question of her favorite characters and connected to her in ways he hadn't with any other. He had nowhere else to be. They were the only two to show up to the ticketed show. They shared in the energy of the crowd and audience as they watched the live action theater. There was flying glitter, sequin, and tassels, with loud players and even louder announcers. It was difficult trying to talk to each other in the uproar, in the moment. They were both relieved to be discussing the show, in a quieter setting, with cold beers in hand. They thought of no one else. After the third round, Brenda and Mike enjoyed a full game of darts. She offered a pass, and he took a puff. They talked the night away. He had never met anyone he could just smoke with. Mike had nowhere to be.  Br...

I'm on the precipice of change; the end of a four year relationship that was (in my own head) supposed to be forever; a lot of new social connections, flirtatious and beyond; family sicknesses, serious/acute/chronic; aging parents; and ISO a new, healthier community. I was diagnosed with Autism about two years ago, and I also found a case study from 1998 that was done on me... I was the main subject, and after reading and discussing attributes with my younger self (and my current therapist), I think I can answer a lot of questions about autism and why women aren’t diagnosed until later.  And upon reflections of how I was raised and the expectations thrusted upon me just because I was “of age” …making sense of this nonsense, trying to grip onto what makes me a good person, versus a worthy life lived? The accomplishments that I have achieved, seem so miniscule when I start comparing myself to those younger or older than me, having babies and children just because it’s expected. Where...