”Home is where the Heart is”
Pliny the Elder
disco grooves through the GothamWest Jukebox—
out the sunlit sparkles,
nothing too fancy.
except for that leather watch ring
(mama’s way of asking for trouble)
“hey sexy mama,” said blondyn, opening arms, “hug me.”
she went in, squeezed.
two hugged @ length.
blondyn flashbacked to the starry night they met—
blondyn met her daughter.
word got to mama
the youth was catching Zzz @ Imagine Fields,
just round the block—
sexy mama didn’t like the sound of this,
she and daughter fixed him some sandwiches
& inspected on the situation.
mama & daughter
—new family unit living @ the Towers.
blondyn played the part.
raised sister strong.
slaved to save mama,
one day, mama + sister
blondyn fell from Towers
back on streets
roughing it w/ urban outfitters
wit heartbeat / grinding stone
“what you doing here mama?”
searching for a new place to live.
thought maybe moving back cityward’d be good for her—
yet home was hard to come by.
“and how far you running mama?”
she put sass in her stance
that somehow took the q
& threw it back on b.
was he running too?
trying to escape some unnameable something?
he went on pondering.
had decided that many times ago.
blondyn was positively Questing,
Crusading after the Destiny of His Most High Potential Standing.
whatever that means.
and what exactly any this had to do with creative writing was beyond he.
he loved to hate it tho.
long road to race for happiness,
especially considering one didn’t know what that road looked like to anybody.
perhaps happiness was not to be found, but fathomed—
URGENT! Writing Assignment 1001
-the e-mail alert had suddenly shown on the CPU screen.
“now you know there’s lots of love,” he said, putting his arm around her as throwing the other to the CPU. “but son has to play these keys.”
you could be straight with mama.
was tougher than most.
she didn’t know what he was ever doing on those blasted keys.
“go to Miami or someplace new,” said blondyn, “give me a reason to come see you.”
blondyn thought she’d claw him.
sexy mama knew better than to do so in public.
good thing, too.
“maybe i’ll just live on the streets with you…”
he shook his head.
“c'mon mama,” said blondyn, “streets are death row…” he nodded, “know you wouldn’t last.”
it was hard to make mama smile.
“and how long are you going to go on living like this?”
“til we reach the dawn,” he said, “or home, or whatever you wish to call it, now scoot!—get this olive skin off to miami sun.”
blondyn pushed her on.
saw the screen.