After having almost lost an eye to the clumped family on the previous block, I risked darting into the street and around a parked car in order to avoid losing an eye by his sharp-cornered laminated menu. The street was clear of enormous trucks from Texas swerving around — a small ...
you can hear the grit in her still, when she talks of her boy. “let me tell you the reality,” she begins, her words as sharp as his lyrics. “my great-grandmother was a slave. my grandmother was a sharecropper. my mother was a domestic, and i was whatever the fuck i was. ...