July 4, 2019
Detroit, 1969
Hamburgers and watermelon. Mad Dog 20/20 on boyfriend Phil’s breath. That summer, Marsha and I sold Black Panther Party newspapers downtown, hustling in front of Hudson’s like the revolutionary vanguard […]
August 16, 2013
Pocketbooks, Part 3 (A)
I have a friend who is a poet immersed in the question of whether one person can truly know another. At work a couple weeks back, mulling the question over, […]