Familiarity
Lines
patterned and weaved into a grid
A blanket of
numbers and names to give me security
My Chicago
Home
stretched out like a Cartesian plane
Daddy’s
compass and taxi cab with Mommy’s numbers
Gave Baby
her way round the town
Segregation
and classism never bothered me
‘Cause we
had just enough money
And my
neighbors looked like me
Though Mom
said not to swim in the Park District pool
‘Those kids
have no home training,’ she said
And I
followed that
The sweet
smart big little girl with the weird name
I knew my
times table by kindergarten
But also
loved
Red Kool Aid
Snow cones
from the corner
Sandwich
bags full of candy
25 cent bags
of Hot Flamins with nacho cheese
Nachos with
ground beef and cheese made with Doritos
Jumping
singles
Orange
mixtapes
But that
little girl grew up with four eyes wide open
Understanding
why Mom wouldn’t let her walk three blocks home from the Green Line
Understanding
why all the Aunties and Uncles never came to visit
Understanding
why the Diasporan kids all live on the North Side
Living in
Kmart aisles lit up with blue light specials
We hold on
to what is so dear so tight
As much as I
love Chicago
She can be a
frigid bitch
So she
taught me to pack my things
And never
look back
At the
stranger who looked so familiar
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