The new built church was filling up
For its very first Christmas Eve.

It was finished in October
On a piece of vacant land, and
Reverend James had joined the greeters,
At its entrance shaking hands.

From seeming out of nowhere
A stranger just appeared
He was hunched a bit, and limping
With a longer gray-white beard.
His suit was black and dusty,
Like it hadn’t been used in years,
And his eyes were red and misty
Like he’d been shedding countless tears.

The Reverend grabbed his hand and said,
“Welcome!  Welcome, come right in!!
You’re a stranger to these parts I guess,
But we’re mighty glad you came.
And if it’s all the same to you,
We’d like to know your name.”

“Name’s Everett.  Everett Kent,” he said.
“Been alookin’ for this church.
Knowed some day you’d build it here.
Now I can end my search.”

The stranger loosed the Reverend’s grip,
Limped in and settled down,
At the far left end of the far back pew;
Where no one was around.

He sat through prayers and sermon,
Through a couple hymns as well
And when they got to ‘Silent Night’
He appeared to know it well.  
Silently, he closed his eyes,
The words were his release
“Round yon ******, Mother and Child,”
“Sleep in Heavenly Peace.”
“Sleep in Heavenly Peace.”

As the song went to the second verse,
The bearded stranger, dressed in black
Vanished into silent night,
Not once looking back.

The next day - Christmas Morning,
The ushers found a curious thing
A parchment in the offering plate
******* with a string.
When they untied the string they found
Much to their surprise,
A stack of Hundred Dollar bills
Of a slightly larger size.
They were from a different era,
Was this some kind of a joke?
A heartless cruel trick to play
At the expense of righteous folk.

On the inside of the parchment
In an antique writing style
Was a poem, (or a riddle?)
Now they couldn’t help but smile.

“One Thousand for the Father,
Two Thousand for His Son.
Three Thousand for the men who followed on the run.
Four Thousand for Mother Mary, who must have suffered most,
Five Thousand in remembrance of the wandering Holy Ghost.
That leaves nothing for the Devil
Though he’d like to claim it all.
May it help to pay the mortgage
On the church you built this fall.
Fifteen thousand dollars here,
Count it if you want –
I’ve had it for safe-keepin’
‘Twas much safer than a vault.”

The Reverend and the Deacons counted 15 Grand
The Reverend and the Deacons, together made a plan
Early the next morning of the very next business day,
They found a numismatist
To see what he would say.

He said,
“As currency it’s worthless
But a collector will pay well
These notes are rare and valuable
As far as I can tell.
You’ll get thirty / forty times the face
Look at the condition that they’re in!!
Where the Hell did they come from?”
And, where the Hell have they been?”

Reverend James contradicted
Remembering Everett Kent,
“Sir, it wasn’t Hell they’ve come from.
These notes were Heaven sent.
A stranger came on Christmas Eve
And left them on the pew.
All we did was count them,
And bring them straight to you.”

On the way home, Reverend James perplexed
Reviewed the strange events
Prayed that God would grant him wisdom
So he’d know what to do next
Surely the stranger didn’t know
The value of the notes
He mentioned only Fifteen Thousand
In the poem that he wrote.

A lawyer was a member
Of the Richland Christian Church
So Reverend James implored him
To do a legal search
He vowed to find the stranger Kent
To make known the real worth,
And inform him of the value
Of the bills he left at church.

Three days later, four o’clock
The Reverend heard a frantic knock
“I’ve found something that’ll interest you,
From 23 December, Eighteen Seven Two.


Richland Herald, December 31, 1872
The First National Bank of Richland was robbed last week, on December 23rd, by a man who, holding the tellers at bay with a pistol, demanded that they surrender all the money in the vault, without protest so that none would be harmed.  The thief escaped on horseback, though the Sheriff’s department was duly informed, and the Sheriff and two newly appointed deputies immediately gave chase.

On or about 4 pm the following day, a man matching the thief’s description was said to have been seen at the stage stop, run by Everett Kent, and his wife Mary, two fine people known about these parts for their hospitality and generosity.  As a testament to this fact, an itinerant preacher (known only as Reverend Jim) had been staying at the house for some time and conducting meetings at the stop whenever possible.  It should be mentioned as well that the Kent’s have a young son David, who, taking a liking to the eloquent Reverend Jim, had decided to also preach the Gospel and had taken the his first steps in that Almighty Direction.

As the posse surrounded the house, the thief, perhaps knowing that he could not escape, endeavored to bargain his way out of the situation by taking hostages and thereby securing his own safety.  Everett Kent, pleading for some shred of decency from the villain, asked that his wife and child and Reverend Jim be released, and that he, alone would serve in that capacity.  The thief relented (maybe the only time in his villainous life that he concluded a decent act.)  Mary and David ran from the building and were quickly placed out of harm’s way by the sheriff and his men.

What happened next will never be known to any but those in the building and the Lord God Himself.  What is known, is that yelling and commotion came from the house, and three shots were fired.  Perhaps upon being released, instead of removing himself to safety, Reverend Jim, attacked the villain and a scuffle ensued.  In the process, a kerosene lamp was broken, and the building caught fire.  Although Mary implored the sheriff to rescue her husband who had been tied to a chair, the Sheriff exercising judgment, if not valor, determined that it was already too late.

The thief (identity forever unknown), the valiant Reverend Jim and the pious and unfortunate Everett Kent all perished in the fire.  When the house had burned to the ground and the bodies could be examined, it was determined that the thief was shot through the heart and Reverend Jim also had received a mortal wound.  Everett Kent, though tied to a chair, had somehow procured a bullet wound to his right leg.

The spoils of the robbery, according to the First National Bank, $15,000 in uncirculated $100 bank notes, were never found, and presumed burned to ashes in the fire.

Reverend James felt faint
His knees and legs were weak
He sat down at his desk, and
Heard the lawyer speak.

Reverend James, there’s something more
That you have a right to know.
The stage stop never was rebuilt.
The widow moved away
And raised her son in another town
Very far away.

The son became a preacher
And later changed his name
In honor of the Reverend Jim,
Called himself David James.

You are David’s GG Grandson
You descend from Everett too.
The land where you just built the church?
Left so long ago to you?
Was once the home of Everett Kent
I found that in my search.
The widow left it to her son
And he thus passed it down.
And now you’ve built your brand new church
On that very ground.

You’ll never find the stranger
The notes are yours to spend
And the Christmas Eve Tale of Everett Kent
Has finally reached its end.

“One Thousand for the Father,
Two Thousand for His Son.
Three Thousand for the men who followed on the run.
Four Thousand for Mother Mary, who must have suffered most,
Five Thousand in remembrance of the wandering Holy Ghost.
That leaves nothing for the Devil
Though he’d like to claim it all.
May it help to pay the mortgage
On the church you built this fall.
Fifteen thousand dollars here,
Count it if you want –
I’ve had it for safe-keepin’
‘Twas much safer than a vault.”
Reverend David James III,  recounted to Philip W. Lindsey on 4/13/2015

I’m in the library, at school, trying to write an article for the school paper (and I'm not even ON the school paper). I’m on a forty-five minute deadline to complete a story someone else did poorly - on the edge of my vision I see someone step up to my table - a boy, I can tell, without looking up, from his school uniform. I’m hoping whoever it is will go away.. 44 minutes.
“Uhh-umm,” I hear.
My eyes flicker up and I ID “Everett Priestly” - one of God’s less ambitious efforts.
After a moment.
“Uhh-umm,” he does again.
“Parsley,” I say, without looking up.
“Priestly,” he answers with a sigh, "wanna play HOUSE?" he says conspiratorially, with a smirk.
"We were 7," I say, liberally applying syrupy boredom.

I’ve kind of known Everett Priestly forever - he lives two doors away from us - then my family became ex-patriots until three years ago. His family is rich, he’s handsome and I believe someone once told him he was charming. He fancies himself a lady killer but I’m willing to bet that he kills them with a combination of daddy’s money and poor driving.

“I’m awfully busy - on deadline Mr. Priestly - please send me a text,” I say, again, without looking up.
“I don’t have your number,” he says, patiently. “Would you like to go to Sandra’s party with a group of us Friday night?”
“OOOO! Let’s keep it that way,” I smile - this is too easy - 42 minutes.
“It’ll be FUN,” he says, with a smile in his voice - Oh, God, he’s trying charm.
“Everett,” I stop writing, look up and lean back. “You ask me out every two months. If you’ve made a bet with someone - like we’re living a teen movie - I’ll payoff the bet for ya if you just give it a rest, OK?”
He really IS good looking - but kissing him would be the apoco-LIPS.
“Why do you always say no??,” he asks, with a helpless 1/6th shrug and his GIGAWATT smile.
41 minutes.
“See you in January,” I say, as I slide my laptop closer in, give it my obvious, full attention and hopefully, start back to writing.
“Come to Thanksgiving!,” he says, as inspiration strikes.
“January would be MLK day,” I remind him. “Everett, PLEASE - deadline,” I plead (not looking up).
Everett, makes a snarky sound, turns around and slowly moves away - like a man headed for jail - he really SHOULD try out for the drama department, I decide. 40 minutes.

When Everett turned 16, his daddy gave him some kind of expensive foreign sports car - a really, really, really expensive sports car. Six hours later Everett guns this formula-one race-car out of a gas station, loses control, and totals it. The girl with him had to get stitches over her right eye.

His friends call him “EV” - they say it with a kind of a southern accent - that I can’t decide is fake or not, which gives it a hint of - “Elvis” - had a replacement car within 48 hours. He wrecked THAT one in less than six weeks - and his date got a concussion in the roll-over.

If he wants me to get in a car with him, he’s gonna to have to taser me.

Everett street, Wooveburra


One day in the Mython town of Wooveburra, there was a working class street in the suburb of Kensworth, called Everett Street, where their lived former Mython prime minister, Jack Norridge, who was the most right wing politian around, and he only is living in the street because his rich wife took her and his money to make a better life for herself and her children in Sydney Australia and Jack was left penniless and had to apply for the age pension, and mind you he had nothing in common with any of the folk anywhere on this street, you see in one house is a family who can barely feed themselves nevertheless the luxuries they give to their kids, like paying for school camps, and Jack told them, on his day he had his second job at her and her husbands age, and yes, they tore strips of him, but them, they were doing better, which suited them fine, and there were no way they will help him through what he's going through, and in another house is Fred Gordon who was the librarian, and when he came face to face with Jack, and bare in mind when Jack was prime minister, he needed to fund his new freeway, so he nearly had the library shut, and now he's got nothing, he was in no way showing any sympathy for the man,,telling him endlessly, things like welcome to my world ****, and your not so big now, Jacky, you will be killed within 3 months, mate.
There was a young couple, what about 16 and 17 who have 2 kids and when he walked passed,,the young couple always wanted to chat to him, and they chatted about why the **** did they cut their grandmas pension, she had to stop giving us gifts, and then they called Jack a two faced slimey old cow, and Jack said, sometimes we have to cut back, then he said have a look at me, and then the couple said to him, your problems are ******* self-inflicted, our problems are just us finding a mojo that you ***** won't let us have, and then Jack was getting very nervous, and went into the pub and when he got in, it looked good, and people Said hello and when Jack asked for gin and tonic,everyone looked at him, and also one ,man said to Jack, hey are you former prime minister Jack Nortodge, and when he said yes, he laughed and he laughed at him and then punched him square on the gut,
And Jack said, I will get my lawyer onto you all partiers, in my day we all did an honest days work, none of this few drinker happy hours like you guys get, and then one drinker said, well in your day when everyone did a honest days work, does that make you different to the world, cause you haven't done an honest days work ever, so ******* right wing fascioust, and Jack left to go home seeing people throwing thier fists at him, as well as sticking their fingers at him, and then Jack said, I am going nowhere, so get used to me Everett Street, I am here to stay, and every resident yelled out, but our towns heritage won't be, you'll turn this street into Las Vegas, if we give you half the ****** chance, and then Jack went inside and all the residents went to the pub and tell of all things that Jack has done wrong for the country of Myth, and everyone hated him with a passion,,and that's what happened on Everett street this week, I hope you enjoyed it.


Sent from my iPhone

A friend of mine walked up to me and asked me: "What is a good woman?"
I replied "you would know if you were a good man"
He said "Stop joking I really wanna know"
"There is no definite answer, but when you meet one, it will show"
There are many characteristics  that make a good woman, but it would take days to speak them all
Since my friend brought this to mind, I thought I would list a few for y'all
A woman who is proud of what she brings
and won't complain over petty things
A woman who is well spoken and not opposed to listening
because communication is key from the beginning
A woman who is wise and able to realize
the pit you are in doesn't matter because she will help your rise
A woman who wouldn't try to control her man but also wouldn't be a doormat
And when trouble comes up, her feet won't be flat (she's ready to go)
A woman who never stops believing in the man that you are and the man you can become
So much confidence in you, it almost makes her seem dumb
A virtuous woman who prays for you more than she prays for herself
Remembering God is number one above all else
A woman who tries to pay for herself before you can offer
Knowing the difference between selfless and selfish is something you should prefer
A woman with the power of forgiveness
But don't abuse it
Because a good woman is not stupid
She will lose it
You will lose her and have no one to blame when your heart takes the hit
If you hurt a good woman, in my eyes, you aren't worth the saliva I spit
The ice cream no one would lick
The one that gets thrown down in hope ants would leave a picnic
To pick apart your existence
Use your common sense
Realize what's in front of you and cherish it
Woman is the title a female receives at a certain age
But it takes a good man to realize a good woman is on the next page
I'm not saying a good woman needs to have this quote for quote
I don't think any woman does, if so, let me know
I haven't met any besides my family, but I don't go down that road
I'm being patient, waiting for my good woman is giving me time to grow
So I can give her the best Brandon Everett Davis, the world doesn't know
To not be on their level, would be a sin
Let's become better men for these good women

The ***, I thought. Pirates drink ***, I decided, because then the world rocks like a boat. My foot was tingling, like it was asleep, but I was just sitting on it, which seemed funny.

I managed to free my foot and the whole world seemed more comfortable.
Then a spider was on my face!
I swatted at it, but it was just my hair, which I managed, with dizzying effort, to tuck behind my ear.

Everett, slid off the couch, in front of me, like an alligator off a sand bank. I hadn’t noticed him before. He worked his way over next to me, on all fours, like a lazy, wobbly panther.

“Everett,” I said, as if to establish the fact that that blurry shape was indeed Everett.
“ANN-Ais,” he replied, and chuckled like we’d exchanged punchlines. He was next to me now.
“You’re very,” he said, as if struggling for the next word, “PRetty,” he said, petting my arm like a cat.

Then, still on all fours, he lifted one hand and touched a finger to my right breast, as if it were a sleeping thing he was trying to wake. I watched him, detachedly. He looked distorted, like a reflection in a funhouse mirror. His backside slumped down, like a lion that was full and ready to nap, and he rebalanced himself on his left elbow and licking his lips reached over again.

I gently, preemptively, pushed his reaching hand away, “Stop thAT,” I said, “yourrrrrr drrUNK.”
“YOU’RE, are TOO!” He said, in sloppy accusation, which made me laugh and then him too.

“Leave me alone,” I managed to say, pretty clearly. Prompting Everett to frown and give me a jerky, dismissive wave as he, the proud panther, began to look for other prey.

I looked around and saw my purse, on the table next to the chair that was holding me up. The strap was just within reach so I yanked on it and my purse thumped roughly onto the carpet next to me. My glass, which was next to it, threatened to tip over but settled itself upright.

I fished out my phone, while fighting a curtain of my hair that had decided to attack me when I reached for my purse. “Hey, Siri,” I slurred, “callllll CHarles.”
It rang once. “Yep,” he said.
“Come get me pleaZ,” I said, trying to get my hair and tongue separated.

Two minutes later Charles was there. He held out his hand, which I managed to take while somehow shouldering my purse. He pulled me to an unsteady stance, shook his head and scooped me, effortlessly, into a cradle carry. “Do you have everything?” He asked.

I nodded and said, “Thank you for inviting me, EVVVV!” While waving wildly as we left.
Once outside, he said, “14-year old's do NOT drink!” With a real edge in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” I said, in a tone of tired melancholia. I couldn’t help resting my face on his warm chest as he carried me to our house just next door to Everett’s.
“You’re GROUNDED for a MONTH.” He said in a growl.
Somehow, I managed to make it upstairs and into bed without encountering my parents.

In the morning, while I was busy feeling like death, Charles told my parents, “She’s grounded for a month.” I was. They didn’t ask why, and he didn’t offer to say.

I love Charles.

"Honestly? I'd just cover that up", he says

Orion's not moving. Stars don't move.
They may die, they may dim, they may traverse galaxies
Change position in the night sky with the seasons
Give me one. good. reason.
To cover up my compass home,
The one good thing, the one beautiful thing,
On this scarred and wretched body?

"We'll put Orion somewhere else, start over"

You're not my mother, ripping out a new piercing
Locking the door on a daughter and her father
Drinking and dating and thinking "start over"
My skin is just my skin, the moles and ink
And decisions are mine to live in
How dare you claim yourself an artist,
yet break down your clientele, your canvas

So Orion's not the problem, sir
It's a debauched attitude toward station
When I follow the stars tonight, I will tell them
Needles have no consideration

I would like to tell you a story about a soul. A soul that was as clean, pure and gentle as soul can be. Rarely in live do we meet someone or some animal who never wanted anything but to give love. This story can’t be told without talking about her caretaker and my wife.

About 12 years ago an injured kitten was released to Everett Animal Shelter. The kitten had no use of it’s hind legs and was incontinent. In those day it was almost 100% chance that this kitten was going to be put down. Don’t feel sad/mad about this, nature’s way can be very cruel. The her fate sealed, this was much more humane ending.

My wife took it home to see if the kitten could be rehabilitated. We had been fostering kittens for a while and had a safe room for her. After getting her settled in we look at each other saying without words “Now what”?

Well the first thing that needed to be done was give her a name. We talked for a bit and I explained to my wife “She needs a strong name. She needs a strong black female name. She going need it to help her through life”. The strongest black female name I knew was Rosa Parks. That became her name.

Rosa being incontinent was, well to be honest, was a stinky kitten. Stinky kitten became one of her many nicknames, HA. Rosa needed to learn how to take a bath. If you ever tried to give a kitten/cat a bath you know it’s not really a good idea. So my wife dives right in, picks her up and takes her to bathroom for her first bath. Rosa being the soul she was just sat in the sink and took her bath. She didn’t fight it, she never hissed or got angry. She just took her bath. This attitude towards water lead us to try water therapy.

Water therapy was a home job for us. We would fill a storage tote with warm water and put this rear palatalized kitten in it up to her neck. Now for first time in a few weeks this kitten Rosa could stand up with the water supporting her weight. This went on for the first year of her life. This was the start of many treatments such as acupuncture, a sling in her room and massage. She did all of it never complained about anything.

It didn’t take to long and soon Rosa was strong enough to stand and wobble out a step or two. After a few months of no more improvement it became clear that a decision needed to be made about what to do with her. Is her quality of life such that gets returned for euthanasia or is she happy and do we commit to her care. We knew that she could never live the life of a normal cat. She would never be able to go outside unsupervised, she could never be inside unsupervised except in her safe room. She was healthy and always happy so the commitment was made.

Rosa had her safe room but what to do with her when we can supervise her. Rosa needed a wheelchair. After doing some research we found a local company that makes wheelchairs for pets. After getting her sized up the day came she had her chair. We put Rosa in her chair and in no time she was zooming around the room. Rosa is mobile!!!

My wife and I would take Rosa and Cocoa (look for the story ‘Cocoa’s Ghost’) for walks around the block. Animal Rescue Foundation who had paid for Cocoa issues and Rosa’s early expenses told the Everett Herald newspaper about this and Rosa went mainstream. Look up the news article ‘Pets get a second chance’ if your interested reading it. Needless to say walking a cat in a tiny wheelchair got attention.

One of the things that was very special about Rosa was she loved being a foster mom. My wife would often bring home sick kittens, tiny kittens and just overflow from the Everett Shelter and put them in Rosa’s safe room. Rosa always excepted those kittens as her own within a day or two. I often thought it would have been funny to learn about the birds and the bees from her perspective.

Me “Rosa, where do kittens come from”.

Rosa “Well first you eat some food, then you ****, then you go to sleep and BAM kittens”.

There were many, many times a sick kitten would just curl up in her belly and sleep with it’s now mother Rosa. She was so good with the kittens. She would cuddle, discipline, clean and try to feed when needed. The kittens in her care got a family with a loving mother and bothers and sisters, often unrelated. She truly seemed to enjoy motherhood.

This was Rosa’s and my wife’s life for 12 years. Feed Rosa, squeeze Rosa, clean Rosa and love Rosa. Last night that most of that ended. A few weeks ago Rosa stopped eating and drinking. After $1000 of tests, weeks of fluids, syringe feedings and with no answers we made the choice and gave the gift. Rosa died the same way she came into our lives, in my wife’s arms.

I wrote this not to make you sad. I wrote this to share a clean, pure and gentle soul with you. Some of you reading this may have one of her kittens living with you now: a small piece of her soul living with you now.  Enjoy her gift to you.

In January 2018 young dolly Everett committed suicide after receiving lots of hurtful comments and she couldn’t take it anymore, so she ended her life, I went up to nirvana to guide her slowly to her next life
Because she gave up on life as dolly, after being a loving life kid with the akubra hat, I know how losing your life so young can be hard because I was Graeme Thorne in my previous life and in this life I try and have a positive attitude in life, I explained to dolly that Buddha wants you to fight your way into another ****** because you have a lot to live for and despite me saying that, dolly didn’t want to come back, the world is too cruel, and
I said yes, but the chances of being a target of bullying again is slim and I could make you come back into a great person as your mother and I got bullied in school in this life, but I never wanted to **** myself but I understand it isn’t as easy for you, so I will sit and drink methane with you for a long as it takes because my point is you shouldn’t let bullies spoil your vision of life, home and away star penny macnamee wants another baby, and I think you would be ideal to get reborn into her family and you can love life and have fun and put those dreaded bullies in your past
Dolly said, it is hard for me people were awful to me and I said, I got teased and bullied back then, but I don’t want to let that spoil my vision of life and I know you ended dolly Everett but you should give penny the chance to enjoy motherhood
And you will have an older brother and you can have fun as well and dolly sat in the Saturn pub for 3 weeks and finally penny was trying for a baby and dolly was wanting to enter it which I said well done dolly don’t let the world stop you from enjoying life and I am now on medication for schitzophrenia and if you need that which I hope you don’t just learn to love life, bullies are just problem children who could be jealous
They will never make me forget about life and your next life will be a fabulous one for you

It was suggested that we wear something comfortable (especially shoes) and that we bring a cover. I wore a black one-shoulder bow-tied satin mini dress and G Ballet Flats and I was able to fold a sheer shirt into my tiny purse (for a later cover).

The stretch limo pulled into our driveway.
“Is it prom night already?” my brother Brice snarked.
“Be careful,” my mom said sternly, pulling my short dress down a bit. “you have your phone?”
I rolled my eyes, produced my phone and she made sure “Find my” was working.
“You’re staying at Bili’s (my BFF), ya?”, she confirmed. “You three stick TOGETHER.”, she adds.
“Yes mam.” we answer, with nods all around.

As Bili, Kim (my 2 BFFs) and I excitedly settled in, the boat-like car moved smoothly off into the night. There were ten of us - five guys and five girls - but no set “dates”.

Everett (nick-named “Ev”), all business at the moment, made sure he had all of our cell phone numbers - which he sent back to us as a custom contact list called “Dance Monkeys”, HA! Then he pushed a button or two, the interior lights dimmed, background music filled the air, a partition lowered and a bar appeared. The club, in Atlanta, was an hour away.

The cover charge for the Havana club VIP lounge is $500 a person (but you get a “free” drink). Everett waved, said, “Eddie!” and two Dwayne Johnson clones parted like a bank vault door. We passed through an airlock-like foyer where “Ev’s” polite apple-pay tap allowed the ten of us to enter the industrial looking, VIP lounge area.

A pretty girl dressed in black leather named Holly was our “steward” for the night - Everett, our guide to pleasure, passed her our cell number list. A second later we all received the message, “Hi!, I’m Holly - text me if you need anything.”

We passed through one last set of black glass doors and I practically flinched as the night exploded into shards of light, ear grinding bass riffs and pure, laser-lit decadence. “Holy crap,” I said - I couldn’t hear myself so I knew no one else could either - my arms prickled - it felt like the room was 45 degrees.

We were led through an ocean of writhing people below a live, aerial, Cirque du Solei like ballet display. Video played on every inch of wall space - the song “Get out of my head” played like a jet engine - the video was skin on every surface - the effect was stunning and somewhat disorienting.

Eventually, we came to a private “cabana” where we settled in.
Someone pulled my arm and I was out on the dance floor. ****, THIS is what I’d been missing - FUN.

Every few songs I was able to get back to the table and gulp whatever drink was at my seat but then someone pulled my arm and again, I was out on the dance floor. The club seemed to morph with every video - the crowd roared each time a favorite cut, like “Wasted love” began.

I was offered, more than once, a triangular pill with an “X” on it - we (Bili, Kim and I) were pretty sure it was ecstasy. We passed on it. However, it seemed a tray of shooters arrived at our cabana every 5 minutes.

There were half-assed horderves, but I hadn’t really eaten and after about 90 minutes of shooters and dancing I was starting to spin. Then, like magic or an unconscious prayer, the field of dancers parted for - a pizza delivery!!

Ok, now, in my animal-like hunger, I’m thinking maybe Everett is a genius. People at other  cabanas point and eye us with naked envy. No one else thought of this. I greedily, unladylikely help myself to a life-saving slice of cheesy heaven and groan with pleasure at each new bite.

I’m greedy for more than pizza.

Substitutions, approximations & affiliations make my flat **** tired
among the countless ***** bank kiddies my "donations" have sired
with mucked up & mired résumé-writers happily ****** up & fired
who reject the notion that a Dutchman'll never quit a job once hired
We march in jackboots to combat the foot ball neuromas of Morton
that force us on long marches to stop, cut, soak our heels & shorten
the queer couplin' betwixt Gavin Gordon & Edward Everett Horton

Some say, we don't need black history month.
When in truth we do.
Would the contribution of African American be taught truthfully.
If we had to depend on you know who?

Obviously, they very unaware of several successful black that contributed to America's greatness.
We, very well aware they edited down facts to be turn into fiction.
Like that president that chopped down that cherry tree.

Many doesn't know the plight of Washington, Dubois, Carver.
Let alone know their first name.
It's hardly taught, if it's about us.

George Franklin, Grant-dentist
Ernest Everett, Just.-Scientist
Josh Gibson, one of the greatest baseball player.

We know very well about George, Thomas and James and John Q.

Some say, we all Americans
And in truth, they completely right.
But for reasons very well known.
We are not all equal in sights of others.

When needed, they call upon us to join in.

Some still, say-why do Black history month exist?
But all cultures knows none was eliminated through times.
Than those captured to come here and renamed after their masters.

And facts be told, this cultures lives to embrace into their children's if nothing is ever mention by certain teachers about their cultures.
Than they will keep it before them.

Matthew Alexander, Henson-Explorer
Billie Holiday-singer
Duke Ellington and Count Basie and Cab Calloway.

Greatness, we can't let fade.

Vernon Jordan
Shirley Chilsom
And hosts of present days teachers that push the issues to educate.

Those that say, we don't need Black History months.
Be crying , if we try to eliminate theirs.
Cause that's all they ever known.

Howard University.
Tennessee State and Fisk and various others came to be because of discrimination.
And has turned out some brilliant African Americans.

So our history is needed.
Cause it's about us.
Like Latin History and various others is about other cultures.

The trains cry out in the lonely hours of the night.
Their sirens beckoning, awakening me from my stupor and teasing that I'm still alive.

How unfortunate to be reminded that life continues with out me.
How self-centered to feel like I should be a part of it.

Shaping lifestyles and decisions based on sound waves.
Hiding between headphones, I escape to experiences that aren't mine.

What happened?

-Grace
August 2012

It's amazing how long I spend staring out this window.
looking past the water; past Everett.
Thinking about driving through and past the mountains;
And taking him with me.
Thinking about everything I told him last night, yesterday.
Thinking about sleeping inside the jacket that is neither his nor mine.
I washed it, but it probably reeks of; flowers, cherries, peppermint
and dreams.
I wish I could sit on this windowsill and stare for hours.

**Written about the extremely large windows of the A-building
at the ever classy ghetto-fabulous Everett High School. Third floor.