Mrs.O's writing room.

  The young man walks through neighborhoods balancing colorful bed sheets on his head determined to sell these materials for a living. “Bed sheets! Buy some bed sheets!” Human beings like good night sleep and all the other things done between these large pieces of cloth it is a constant human condition, after work there is rest. Selling bed sheets should therefore meet man’s need for comfort. Before the sun comes up, he takes a taxi to Owino market. He sorts through a variety of bed sheets, haggles for a good price and successfully stretches the money loaned to him by a friend. He walks along Luwum street on his way to the quieter residential suburbs. He hopes. Hopes that today will be a good day for business. He walks by a gate on Mackinnon road, asks if madam is home and if she would like to buy some bedsheets. “Come later” He is told. He crosses to the kiosk to buy a Safi drink – a little sugar to keep him energized in the sun. The folded bed sheets shield him from the sun’s gla...

He scrolled through her pages and picked himself off her poems, her stories  He traced a semblance of who they once were etched in the details and light moments that floated through the words  A distant romance fell lightly in cues sprinkled along the way   His signature engraved in her writings  The first line of his favorite phrase  A stanza on heart break  A nostalgic tweet  He could feel the emotion as he run his fingers over the lines  Aged attraction watermarked the pages held up against the afternoon light  The run in of old paths secret and true eased his mind   Seeds planted in youth now rooted and mazed like thread on a quilt  Telling histories revealing mysteries  Stories on life’s tapestry  Mrs. O  Poem 6. Page 22.

  Ah! Little guy We hustle you and me, me and you Up and down we go Through emotions and hormone tempests we go Now you want dread locks Now caramel hair Now you want earrings Now diamond teeth What?! A necklace? Want to shop with mom in the jewelry section? Find identity within I say, find identity in Christ I say How you present yourself is key I say You say I don’t understand and maybe, maybe You grow here, I grew there America, Africa – different countries You grow now, I grew then America, Africa – different cultures Young black man you fit the profile No one will know you are mom’s little guy when you are out on the streets and there is trouble everywhere No one will know you are mom’s little guy when you walk into a store dressed in a hoody and goofing around with friends You are not little anymore, but you will always be mom’s little guy Yes, you tower over me Yes, you are stronger than I am Catching up to dad real soon and that’s real cool Little guy Listen. Stop. Think. Y...