If it Wasn't for The Bronx ...

Under the ever watchful eyes of new murals of Christopher Rios I've seen my peoples use EBT cards for mint balls on they way to the Methadone program/while Garcia y Vega remains my personal Melrose corner store devotion/sometimes it's like walking past the Vivero when 2nd floor neighbor stays having the hallway smelling like ham hocks, lima beans & Monkey ass/which keeps the mood sometimes shitty like the sidewalks on Stratford/the wrong look might get you stuck like a wanted poster on Soundview & Morrison/they say I'm a classic like Mill Brook & Mitchell rooftops or tenement hallways on 135th & St. Ann's/got a spit game championship caliber 161st & River Ave/Ok/but why is Kurtis Blow's walk a fame block like a semi dead end/Rock Steady & Dr. Ruth on the same block/Hmmm/they stay fucking Hip Hop/get it/I'm reminded how hood my hood is every time I'm startled by a white resident/Boro certified like the Bx 41, 15, 21, 4 & the 5 trains/graffiti covered landscapes inspire my youngest to catch upski's all over our crib's wall/you'd think I lived on Beat Street/Hip Hop DNA like Cedar Park & Sedgwick Ave/deep memory like the old Mcombs ball courts where pops blew buddah bless in my stroller's face/you can still catch me in the hood like Calino & Barnes living 3 blocks from my father's sister & not knowing till the funeral/spitting back to back 4's like it's a Red Sox's wrap around series/tune in/catch me at the Armory in Piper's Pit with the championship belt across my left shoulder talking maaaad shit ...

I'm a Bubblehead, I Never Listened to Nothing My Mother Said ...

I passed out again on the way to the hospital and woke up in triage, “Come on, son, they’re ready for you. Take your time getting up.” The pain made me self-conscious of how I looked, “Name?” But it was the nurse’s pretty face and dreamy hazel eyes that made feel like a super-herb, “Mr. Baxter, I see you left the incident portion blank.” I looked like Martin in that Tommy Hearns episode, “Yeah, Ma you can call me D. I was attacked, but I’m not sure what happened, it all went so fast. Whatever went on I probably had it coming it’s a bit complicated, ya know.” Her head snapped up from the clipboard with a no your busted ass just didn’t look tattooed on her face, “No, I don’t know, Mr. Baxter, please do not refer to me as ‘Ma’ and whatever you choose to divulge is your business.” My father’s eyebrow shot up but my attention was still locked in on the nurse, “Donte, if you’re not going to say anything or file a report, I understand, but make sure it’s for the right reasons. Revenge will not fix anything and though you may decide to disappear, the rest of the family still lives here.” Revenge had never entered my mind. Who was I going to get enlist to fight this invisible war? “Nah, Dad, I know. I’m done. Really, I am.” My father nodded with a slight smile, “Ok, son. Miss, our family doctor should be here shortly. Appleby is the name, Dr. Appleby.” When the police came by for a statement they were clearly bothered by my lack of recall abilities. I think the taller cop wanted to spit on me as he left the room, “Son, I have some things to take care of back at the office. I’ll need to reschedule my donor meeting but I’ll be back to check on you. You think you’ll be alright? Do we need to make some other arrangements with the police? Maybe a guard?” My face felt like it would fall off if I laughed but that was funny, “Nah, Dad. I’m small time, that’s movie shit, stuff but thanks for the concern though. I’m not important enough to run up in a hospital for and don’t wet it as soon as I’m up, I’m outta here …” He stopped for effect, “Yeah, Donte. I want to talk about when I get back. Your mother and I have some conditions. Rest up though and we’ll discuss when we get back.” I didn’t want to make a fuss. I fully understood since they saved my life there would now be conditions attached to any future assistance. “Ok, Dad. I’ll be here.”

He exchanged smiles with the new nurse as she walked in. She was a gem, my face was the size of home plate and I still wanted to kick game. Pathetic. “Mr. Baxter, we’re going to need to get you up and out of that bed. It says here you need a second set of x-rays, so we’ll get you in this wheel chair and be off.” Fine and awesome customer service, “No problem” I figured she’d mistake my quite approach for maturity and see how far that got me. Visions filled sheets of mental paper and it seemed a perfect story for the Chronicles. And in a panic I realized I didn’t have my journal. That shit was at the lab and that couldn’t be good. Ebony was the only person who actually knew about, The Divine Sinner Chronicles. I started to write seriously in ninth grade after Mr. Carol compared my style to the Catcher in the Rye. That had to be one of the things they looked for because they didn’t take much of anything else, “Umm, is there any way I could make a phone call before we leave?” Her smile was like cinnamon toast, “Sure, Sweetie, we won’t be ready for another five or so minutes. I’ll come back when your doctor arrives.” It made sense that James was after the book. I sure he read it before he dropped off the map. Inspired by Tupac’s Soulja’s Story I stared to write about everything that happened since I moved to Boutin. My mind went into panic while I dialed Ebony’s crib, it rang forever, “Hello?” I knew she was scared, “Eb.” Until she heard my voice, “DONTE! What the fuck, nigga! Where are you? What the fuck happened to your place, yo? The cops have been in here and everything, yo, it’s serious.” “I know, Eb, that’s why I’m calling. Listen, I need a huge favor. I know it’s hot but I need something outta my place. I need my book, you know the marble one I’m always writing in?” “Donte that shit has been in my place for like a week now …” “What?” “Yeah, remember we got fucked up? We smoked like twelve blunts that night. No wonder you don’t remember.” “Ebony, I love you! Oh, my fucking god, you saved my life, yo. You don’t even know.” “Whatever nigga. I do know, and stop staying you love me unless you mean it. Where are you?” “I’m in the hospital. They fucked me up lovely, whatever my place looks like, I look ten times worse.” “Damn, yo, it’s like that? Should I be worried?” “Well, not really because they haven’t figured out if they need to be worried about anything. I mean it’s just my journal, you know, I’m just writing stories and shit. But that’s some snitch shit to them. I’m saying it’s not like niggaz be keeping journals and shit.” She paused for a while to process everything, “What floor are you on?”