02128
Yes. I remember East Boston
The way it was when I was ten,
When Mamma Rosa stirred her sauce
Or “gravy,” as I called it then.
I still hear Logan’s jumbo-jets
Vast-wing’d and screeching overhead,
Their noise like brutal fighting words
From toughs who’d gladly see me dead.
Kushner’s had shoes. Lacy’s had sheets.
Sound Factory had 45s
From disco divas and rock bands:
“Le Freak” and “Born to Be Alive.”
And after school, I’d ride the bus
Where older women (aged thirteen)
Would tease me till my mind shrank back
To my own world where girls weren’t mean.
Poetry by Xerxes Riffraff
Read 19 times
Written on 2026-01-02 at 08:12
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by Xerxes
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