Me Today

Me Today

I could have slept in the quiet but had to leave

Hear the quiet incantation of the uncle in the corner, hear my own breath in prostration.

“Thank you for calling,” I replied, over and over.

The senators, unceremoniously referred to as “The Boss” in most offices, might or might not receive the message.

The thief took off, bro

There are about a dozen neighbours in the street now, almost all of us women.

Finally, it was settled that the driver must be Idoma

Everyone started to yell at him.

the brightness of the blue water reflected in their goggles

Our league is called the “Downriver League.”

She took her bony forefinger and made the sign of the cross on my forehead

“Hallelujah,” she said the last word, drawing it out

Weather because, well, hurricanes

We try to avoid those

and then through China Town so O could buy some mushrooms for dinner

My mother texted back the salivating emoji and asked me to save her some.