21st Century Problems: (#7) The First Episode with a Name (Louis Toliver Jr

21st Century Problems: (#7) The First Episode with a Name (Louis Toliver Jr - Swartz, LA))

“Trey?” the voice pulled me out of my daydream of being a contestant on So You Think You Can Dance. “It is Trey? Your name tag says so,“ an old lady asked and confirmed with her old husband standing in front of the register of YoguLand. They stared at me as if I was a zoo animal. “Do you have anymore chocolate sprinkles?” the man said with frustration. “If there aren’t any out there, I guess not,” working at a self-serve yogurt place was one of my least favorite jobs (I rank it 5^th out the 5 I have), but it was easy. “What the hell is the point of having you if you don’t do anything?” the man grumped (can you grump?). It was a good question. “We’ve got chocolate chips, sir,” I didn’t really care. I was thinking about my Netflix queue. “You’re a bit old to be working here,” the woman sassed. I drifted off to the radio playing YoguLand. Ah yes, The Best of Michelle Branch was still going. “You’re everywhere to me Michelle,” I thought. “Hello! Can you weigh our yogurt?” the man was yelling. I don’t like yelling very much. I’m sure it wasn’t going to make him happy either that I realized the scale was broken. “Trey, where is your manager?” the woman said as if that was supposed to scare me. “I am the manager, ma’am, Trey,” I grinned. The old man got pissed and slammed his yogurt down grabbing his wife storming out. I went back to singing passing the time. Yogurt isn’t supposed to be that serious.

Comments

Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

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