They coerced the ink into a sacred text and instructed us to quietly find our seats between the words.
Tsk, I knew that woman. She used to live in a mountain of papers and books down by the French Quarter. Knew her husband, too. One of those academic types that fell off the wagon and thought he could make the streets work for him instead of letting them take him.
I must have been around ten years old when the school library became my favorite place on earth. It wasn’t much, in fact, it was quite small. But that didn’t matter because I was small too.
It's easy to avert your eyes. We all do it. But the disparity is always there. Some neighborhoods are so poor that people can't afford cars. Middle-aged men on kid-sized bikes dart in and out of traffic. At night, they bleed into the darkness. My foot stays on the brake staring and not staring, straining and not straining to see them.
Do not go fretful into that cold light That leaks around the doorframe from the day. Stay, stay and watch the biding of the night.