The Sycamore
I glance over occasionally to see what would cause a kid to laugh so gleefully and see a couple of gangsters playing gin rummy in the front room, gangsters who apparently have been given special permission to hang with the younger kids, although some of the younger kids are as old as seventeen, because nothing will stay still long enough for you to bag it and go.
I don't know what he was laughing at.
There is a keyboard here that was never of much use to M, who feels 88 is the only way to go, and a couple of the youngers are fairly talented at playing around with it which is the background music tonight.
After arguing briefly over a scoring issue the gangsters, who had been given temporary special indoor priviledges on account of rain, exit to the porch.
On their own initiative the kids, seven or eight of them, made a schedule and posted it on the refrigerator to determine who would do dishes on what day.
Not solely because of M but truly with a great deal of help from her, three young ladies from this hood are on their way to college, two to the local Delgado Jr. College (one with paid childcare), and one to Southern University in Baton Rouge.
I got caught up in an emotional wave tonight is why I got drawn to the recording machine, I can never capture what it is, but cast away in hopes of snagging something I can eat.
There's a young mockingbird visiting the sycamore in front of Rocheblave, but he's mute. I been whistling at him but he ain't impressed and he won't sing for me.
I slept with my head pointed to a new direction last night and dreamt like a sonofabitch, nothing interesting, the usual averting of near catastrophe.
|
I glance over occasionally to see what would cause a kid to laugh so gleefully and see a couple of gangsters playing gin rummy in the front room, gangsters who apparently have been given special permission to hang with the younger kids, although some of the younger kids are as old as seventeen, because nothing will stay still long enough for you to bag it and go.
I don't know what he was laughing at.
There is a keyboard here that was never of much use to M, who feels 88 is the only way to go, and a couple of the youngers are fairly talented at playing around with it which is the background music tonight.
After arguing briefly over a scoring issue the gangsters, who had been given temporary special indoor priviledges on account of rain, exit to the porch.
On their own initiative the kids, seven or eight of them, made a schedule and posted it on the refrigerator to determine who would do dishes on what day.
Not solely because of M but truly with a great deal of help from her, three young ladies from this hood are on their way to college, two to the local Delgado Jr. College (one with paid childcare), and one to Southern University in Baton Rouge.
I got caught up in an emotional wave tonight is why I got drawn to the recording machine, I can never capture what it is, but cast away in hopes of snagging something I can eat.
There's a young mockingbird visiting the sycamore in front of Rocheblave, but he's mute. I been whistling at him but he ain't impressed and he won't sing for me.
I slept with my head pointed to a new direction last night and dreamt like a sonofabitch, nothing interesting, the usual averting of near catastrophe.
- jimlouis 7-30-2001 3:23 am