Sometimes exercising your right to an attorney doesn’t work out. Especially when your attorney needs to respray his Mohawk.
My Name is Osei (part three)
The governor was often in foul mood, for he was ruled by his wife Lady Frances. She was frequently absent, sharing her charms with various others including the king’s son, Prince William. I was a broken man without hope, but for the sake of the children who I instructed, I continued at my teacher’s post.
My Name is Osei (part two)
It was the summer of 1796 when we arrived in Nova Scotia and we counted ourselves fortunate to have made our advent during the warm season. In actual fact, most of us were experiencing colder temperatures than we had ever before encountered.
My Name is Osei (part one)
One morning I awoke, and noticed the absence of the rocking movement of the vessel to which I’d grown accustomed. Shouts and cries assailed my ears and strange smells penetrated even through the miasma of our hold. The hatch opened and we blinked at the bright light, then staggered out of the vessel. With its hot sun and its palm trees, Jamaica was in some ways much like home.
Nobody Knows
The last of the dog walkers hurries out of the park. Slick tells me there are a lot of guys like this guy. That one always makes it a point to talk to Slick, he says. “These guys think that a couple bucks and some hipster shit make them part of the scene. They don’t have a fuckin’ clue.”
Visitors
It’s Tuesday and my sister, Lilly, will be here any minute. I seat myself at the table for a long, deep look at my kitchen. I’m trying to drink it in, commit it to memory; the kitchen, as it looks to me now; me, as I am now.
Dead Or Alive
“You made it. Who’s the little lady with ya there?” asked someone who I swear looked like Joseph Campbell. I was seriously beginning to think I must be suffering from some kind of heat stroke or something. Across from Joseph was Allen Ginsberg, and there was Jack Kerouac, my teenage hero….
The Truths
In the ocean, life lives by water. On land, life lives by air. Somewhere along the way, I had gotten those two truths confused, and for decades, I was prone to choking.
Second Avenue
The city never seemed to sleep; there was always some place open, some last-chance hole in the wall, some “been here since the first war” kind of joint that would serve you beer and a shot and leave you alone.
Margaret’s Dream
Giving up one love to save another sometimes is the only thing that makes sense. Even if it means that your life isn’t as easy as you would like it to be.