Street Love, Page 4

  A mistake, a stumble of the mind

  Like when the wrong word comes

  From the lips, or a face looks

  For a moment familiar but then,

  Up close it’s clearly strange.

  In a way I resent him,

  Sweeping across the desert of my life

  With his cooling waters

  Letting the blazing whiteness of his

  Sails fill the horizon as my arms grow

  Weary of the tide. Damien looks at

  Me as if he is thirsty

  And I want to be a river

  He looks at me as if he is hungry

  And I want to leap upon his tongue.

  He makes me want to write

  His name across the lines

  On my yellow pad. I write

  “Damien loves…” and leave

  A space for another name.

  JUNICE and MELISSA

  Hey girl

  You were in bed

  And we did have a talk

  Or don’t you remember little

  Sweetheart?

  I know

  We talked and all

  But can’t I take a peek

  He ain’t made of gold or nothing Is he?

  No, but

  He is special

  He does the kind of things

  That I wish that he were doing

  With me

  Junice

  That boy has got

  All up inside your head

  You’re going to be in luv tonight

  Big-time

  Away!

  Back to your bed

  You’re talking like a child

  It’s Junice I have to handle

  Not him

  DAMIEN

  Junice moves uneasily through the room

  Her stops punctuated by a soft smile

  That sends shivers of delight up my spine

  My smile doesn’t fit my face anymore

  Clumsily I try to hold the space

  She gives me between the yellowed curtains

  And the darkly stained table where my legs

  Cross and uncross searching out casual

  The smell of food cooking in some other

  Kitchen reminds me that we share the world

  Junice moves uneasily through the room

  I speak, and her quick mind catches the thought

  And tosses it playfully at my feet

  I am eager to laugh and she knows it

  I talk nonsense and she nods, I babble

  And she babbles back. I am excited

  Yes, and afraid to be in her presence

  In the faraway next room there are sounds

  “Melissa’s watching some kiddie program,”

  Junice says. “I bribed her to waste her mind.”

  We are dancers, she with bare feet

  And dangling bracelets, the native child

  Burned by the copper sun

  I am the explorer

  Discovering that there are two

  Sides to the ocean

  “Damien, what are you thinking?” she asked.

  “I am thinking that I am not thinking.

  What are you thinking?”

  “I am thinking that I am thinking too much,”

  she said.

  “Is that good or bad?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, freezing the thought

  I stood and put my arms around her

  She put her head against my chest

  In the long moment that followed

  It was impossible to breathe

  Too difficult to speak

  We were rapt in each other

  For a handful of heartbeats

  Until, embarrassed, she pushed me away

  We had shared more

  Than we knew possible

  Then I was standing, jacket in hand, at the door

  Awkwardly we faced and wondered if Could

  Would turn to Yes, her fingertips kissed

  My face. My lips barely parted and quickly

  Closed.

  Down the stairs, and into the cool night

  A half-moon floated

  High above the jutting chimneys

  Perhaps there were two moons

  Perhaps a dozen

  JUNICE at BEDFORD HILLS to see her MOTHER

  What will I say to her? Hello, Mother?

  Where will I put my eyes when they don’t smile?

  Will I say that Melissa cries for her

  In the darkness? That she calls her name

  As the night creeps into the cold gray day?

  What will I say to her? Hello, Mother?

  The package I left at the desk—panties

  The bra she wanted, tampons in a box

  A card from Miss Ruby—is not enough

  To bridge the distance between

  Us. If sorrow were a shawl

  We could share it against the cold

  What will I say to her? Hello, Mother?

  Will I be able to touch her, to kiss

  Her cheek and tell her amusing stories?

  The guards search me, tossing my confidence

  Into the brown plastic bag with my keys

  Reminding me that I am Black

  That I am lesser.

  Shuffling

  Through the gates with the others

  Flinching

  As the doors slam behind me

  I think of Damien, glad he’s not here

  Letting my thoughts anchor to him

  What would he think?

  Wide-eyed, his mind bouncing

  Madly from green-gray wall

  To green-gray wall

  “Hello, Mama,” I force the words out.

  “How are you?”

  She tries to smile, but can’t

  Her mouth opens and I know she has

  Practiced what to say but she can’t control

  The torrent of words that gush forth

  I’m fine, and you? Have you spoken to a lawyer?

  What are you doing out there? What are you doing?

  Don’t you care about me? I’m your mother!

  Did you bring any money? Commissary

  Costs money. Don’t you know that? Don’t

  you know?

  I can’t stand this place. Get me out of here!

  She is a wolf caught in a trap,

  Gnawing at the foot that holds her

  She growls at me and yelps in pain

  Her eyes bleed tears

  And yes, she is my mother

  And YES, she is my mother!

  You can’t turn your back on me. Don’t you know

  I spent nine months with you and…

  I need a good lawyer for my appeal

  Don’t you know this place is crazy, listen

  To what they’re saying. Talking about home

  As if they are ever going. What are…?

  Head down, I admit to doing nothing.

  The blizzard of her hurts falls heavily

  And I am beaten. Sensing the welling tears

  She stops to breathe. Her tone softens

  Are you doing well in school? Having fun?

  Does Melissa do her homework at night?

  “There is a boy,” I say. “His name is Damien

  Just the thought of him cheers me

  Gives me power over the uncaring

  Hardness of the hood, over the secret thoughts

  That insist on having their way with me.”

  Her eyes go wild

  Her fingers clench

  Her voice becomes a muted shriek

  How can you do this? How can you leave me?

  Oh, my God, you are a terrible thing!

  You’re grinning with some fool while your mother

  Your mother rots in this Godforsaken

  Place forever and you don’t care forever and I

  Hate him forever and I hate you what are you

  Doing? They’re taking m
y life!

  I want my life back. They didn’t tell me

  They could take it. They could just take it!

  The screaming goes on

  Like nails scratching across my heart

  A heavy woman complains that she

  Cannot hear her brother

  And she needs the news because she’s going

  To be in the World soon and then a guard

  Round faced, bored, lumbers over and hits

  His baton on the table between us

  The hour has ended and I am drained

  “There are bruises in your life,” Damien said

  I long for him.

  On the bus headed southward

  My tears somehow signal a tattooed man

  To sit with me. When his hand finds my leg

  I know I have found my passage to Hell

  Wearily I push the hand away

  And try to sleep

  JUNICE and MELISSA at HOME

  Melissa peers

  Deeply into my eyes

  Looking for clues that everything’s

  All right

  All right

  She spoke of you

  Something about homework

  I told her you were doing well

  She smiled

  She smiled

  Then read your note

  And put it to her chest

  Then she read it aloud again

  I lie

  KEVIN and DAMIEN in KEVIN’S HOUSE

  Yo, Damien, are you okay? Your eyes

  Have a distant glaze and you’ve been

  Walking in a daze for days. Tell me

  What’s up? What’s going down?

  Is something going around that I

  Need to know about?

  Kevin, my main rooter

  Mighty square shooter

  My head is spinning

  For no apparent reason

  Hey, man, it’s flu season

  Asian, Avian, Three Day, too

  You need some serious chill out

  Get the heating pad and pills out

  Some hot tea and TLC

  Should make the sadness flee.

  And if all that

  Don’t juice your feelin’

  You better cop some penicillin!

  No, little brother,

  There’s no bacteria

  In the area, it’s Love

  That lifts and gifts

  This mortal

  Damien, excuse me if you will

  Abuse me if you must

  But take me into your trust

  And tell me that this plan

  Does include the fair Roxanne?

  Roxanne, do I know her?

  Do you know her?

  If you don’t know the child

  Your mother has chosen

  Tell me just what has frozen

  Your logic?

  Maybe I’m completely wrong

  Your new love is vehicular

  Or something strictly testicular

  Or you’ve downloaded some song That has turned your brain

  To mush

  Junice, Kevin, Junice

  I have found her

  And she has found me

  Old friend, cut buddy, my splib on the rib,

  Have you taken Junice to your mama’s crib?

  And do you have exact words

  Passed down from above

  Just how do you know that you’re in love?

  Yesterday a woman smiled at me

  No, she smiled at my own mad smiling

  As I walked and spoke to myself

  Spoke and answered as if I were surprised

  At what I was saying, at what I was feeling

  And what I was feeling was the wonder

  Of being more than me, of being more

  Than mere here and now allowed

  I had become a shining star, a burning nova

  Exploded with love

  Flying through an endlessly

  Expanding universe

  Away from the me that was

  Toward a me that is beyond

  Understanding.

  Yo, you’re right, my man

  I don’t understand it either

  But it’s definitely heavy

  JUNICE thinks of calling DAMIEN

  Hello, Damien, yes this is Junice

  I’m calling because this many-cornered

  Room is pressing in on me so hard

  That I feel I will be crushed. Yes, something

  Happened today. I received a notice

  From the Department of Health Services

  Saying that for the greater good of all

  Concerned they would have to assume complete—

  Damien, I can’t say the words. Even

  Though I have practiced them, have let their taste

  Fill my mouth with their acid apathy

  What can you do? I don’t know. Can you fly?

  Change yourself into the wonder of all

  Things? Blaze truth to the world? Can you become

  A wild beast that chases demons away?

  A flowing stream that carries poor meek girls

  To comfort? Are these things that you can do?

  Have I been crying? No, but I have screamed

  Sorrow to the wind and rained misery

  To the pavement beneath my window

  I don’t know if that’s the same as crying

  Damien, I am searching for myself

  In the flickering shadows of despair

  I have become invisible, there’s just

  The sound of my voice echoing against

  The empty streets where once I pretended

  To be. I am loose in space, and falling.

  And the Waiters wait for me, mouths open

  Remembering the taste of the others

  Miss Ruby, Leslie, mothers and daughters

  I see myself on the report, sixteen-

  Year-old girl without parental guidance

  Or resources. I am on the menu.

  What will I do? Grab the thin summer air

  And hold it before my chest like a shield

  Run down the busy streets, shouting havoc?

  Fly with Melissa to the river’s edge

  And dare the tide to carry us away?

  I am like a rat, scurrying across

  The rooftops, my mind scritching and scratching

  In its panic, my limbs digging fiercely

  Into the red brick of the tenements

  I am Street and I do not go easy

  I am Street and I will not flinch from pain

  I am Street! My mind and my soul are Street.

  But my heart, this poor timid thing that beats

  Behind these small breasts, betrays its owner

  Telling her fingers to call Damien

  Damien, are you there? Can you become?

  Damien, are you there? Can you become

  The hope I need? Can you help me be

  More than it is written in my future

  Or past? Is there another me to find?

  JUNICE calls DAMIEN

  Hello? How are you?

  I saw my mother today.

  She’s all right, I guess.

  She’s down. It’s to be

  Expected.

  Me? I’m all right.

  You were thinking of me?

  No, I’m not down. It’s

  Just a cold. Yes, and a

  Headache. I’ll wrap myself

  Warmly, and think of you.

  Good night, darling.

  DAMIEN in his ROOM, his MATH HOMEWORK on his DESK

  The phone is quiet in my hand

  I imagine her brown cheek against

  The white pillow. Her voice still echoes

  In my head. I have never heard a voice

  Like hers before, had never heard

  The sound of a life scraped

  Raw and left to shake and bleed

  In the wind.

&
nbsp; And if I have never heard that sound

  That cry filtering through the storm

  Where have I been? What music drowns

  The cry? And yet…and yet…

  As I sit in my room,

  Wondering how to be heroic

  Rummaging through my life

  For a proper script

  I am afraid. Afraid for all the

  Things I should have said

  Of all the words I sensed and

  Refused to hear as her voice

  Reached out to me.

  In the ticktock

  Quiet of my room, there is the

  Low burrrrrr of a crumbling shield.

  Junice talks of Street.

  Is Street the same as Hero?

  Is Hero the same as Man? Is Man

  The same as Damien?

  JUNICE at the FAMILY COURT OFFICES

  “No, I don’t mean to be hostile

  Ma’am.

  It’s just that I’m afraid that no matter How loudly I speak

  You won’t be able to hear me

  You say I can have no hand in

  The decision. But look at these hands

  They have scrubbed mats on the banks of the Congo

  They lifted Moses from the bulrushes

  These hands can crush razor blades

  And catch sunbeams

  They part rocks and turn back rivers

  Does that make sense to you?

  You say that your hands are tied

  Can I beg them free?

  You quote paragraphs and sentences

  And laws with numbers and subsections

  Will my tears erase them?

  You say my family has a History

  And wash your hands

  As I am crucified to it

  You are a woman, and I am a woman

  Yes, it is relevant

  You are Black and I am Black

  Yes, it is relevant!

  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream

  I know it won’t help my case

  Miss Davis, ma’am, all I’m asking

  Is for the chance to be stronger

  Than the women in my family have been

  My grandmother, once fierce,