I did a workshop today and had a blast!

Making the Invisible, Visible.
If you are an educator pose the question, "Give me an example of an invisible worker." to your students. The responses will be interesting. Check out the work of Martin Espada, the poems I used for this workshop were, Jorge the Church Janitor Finally Quits and Imagine the Angels of Bread. Powerful stuff. Also his response to Nike when they wanted him to write poems for their product.

"you must be totally and insultingly ignorant of my work as a poet" ~Martin Espada

Here's my poem from the workshop.

No Vacancy

in the hours after your departure
or before your arrival
I ghost through
take away what was left behind
the mess and bother
the unflushed and thrown to the floor
bulldozing the refuse of your
affairs illicit or otherwise
I make right and ready
wash, wipe and fold
the discarded made tidy again

a visitor in some strangers house
a specter in the closet
next to the iron on the shelf
an extra blanket to throw off the chill
no one thought to tip
no hush money for the mess
for the detritus of forgotten food
or what was left on the sheets
no point to complain aloud
no one will hear over the whir of vacuum
over the secrets hugging the walls

there are beds I will never sleep in to make
a room that must be picture perfect
just the right temperature
so the chocolate never melts

~TDavis

A Conversation That Should Not Exisit

My son initiated no radio for the drive home just talk. We talk. About girls and confusing signals, I can relate, tell him this and the conversation deepens. We talk about plagiarizing and black lives mattering and about how I've taught compliance but that doesn't work anymore so what now.
My chest aches.

He pretends places his hands at ten and two on an imaginary steering wheel says, "OK. I'm being pulled over."

Me- Can you be not pulled over?

Z- Well yes Mom, but I'm being profiled

I don't burst into tears. I want to but I'm driving and he is really trying to figure this out. Only a parent who has had to suffer this type of conversation knows the twist and clinch of spine and heart.

Me- I guess you keep your hands on the wheel.

Z- Where's my id? I figure I'll take it out of my wallet and leave it on the seat or at least in plain sight, that way they can reach it themselves.

I live in a world where my sweet, funny boy is planning survival for a traffic stop.
This shyt is not normal.

Z- So, if they ask to search my car do I just let them because I have nothing to hide, or ask why I've been stopped and tell them I'll sign the ticket.

This comment phucks me up extra because he is thinking rationally and so much rational is not happening now. Would they even get to the part where he gets to speak?

I remember that me at 15, pretended being a teacher, a fashion designer, a reporter and so many other things. I never practiced staying alive while wearing dark skin in America.

I've been sitting on the porch for hours unpacking this conversation and crying. Last night, I dreamed of losing teeth and fish and walls to tall to climb. I know what those mean and, well, ominous. My son is afraid and oddly calm about it. I am not OK with this. 

Thanks a bunch American Dream Deferred! It's not like black mothers don't have quite enough juggling of lessons to teach that should not be apart of the fucking curriculum. 

Sigh.

I'm going to get it together.
I need hugs.
I need poems.

the jist of it

Today was their chance to impress me. They kinda dropped the ball on that one. They think they are so clever and charming when in actuality they are just rude as hell. As they have no sense of humor they mistake everything for humor. I had to explain to them that if they really thought that putting someone else down in order to get a chuckle from someone they barely like themselves was funny, they were wrong. It wasn't funny just sad. In a class full of difference and misfits, I am always shocked when they don't recognize that the way they treat people is the way thy were treated and they didn't find the receiving all that groovy. But boy do they dish it out. My next plan I think is to seee if they can take it. My money says they can't.

We celebrated National Talk Like a Pirate Day in our customary way a trip to Pirate Cove! Putt-putt golfing at it's best. So much water surrounds the pirate ship run a ground so many colorful balls were lost in the drink. The occasional cannon firing scared the he'll out of a few and my laughter wasn't wasted, or withheld. I giggled loudly! I expected them to lose their minds a bit on the course but still watched for their mean ways and found them.

We usually bombard the Steak and Shake, they were not ready. When I asked for a table for fifteen, I thought the waitresses head was going to spin. Took her over fifteen minutes to get herself together and get us a damn table. They were fine in the restaurant, mostly because I threatened the hell out of them. They made a mess. It was milkshake happy hour so we got a nice discount and our waitress got a big fat tip!