For the reading pleasure of yesterday's listeners of WRFG's (89.3 fm), Radio Free Activists program
Tomato Sauce
All I wanted
was a jar
of tomato sauce
for my eggplant casserole,
but everything
—and I mean, everything—
on isle three
was high
in sodium.
I gave up;
made my way to the organic section.
But it, was hood:
two small shelves of fruit juices,
sea salted plain kettle chips,
and a choice between Kroger
or Quaker rice cakes.
I
was
pissed
because I wouldn’t be experiencing
this problem on the other side of town
just 5 miles West—off More-land Avenue
where the Kroger has variety:
Quaker rice and soy rice cakes,
kettle chips of various flavors,
plus, “reduced-sodium” tomato sauce
and more.
The spinach off More-land
is always fresher.
The broccoli,
crispier
and the carrots,
the carrots always look brand new.
There’s a Starbucks too
on the inside
and a Barnes & Nobles
across the parking lot
a Ross, a Target,
and ShoeFactory lofts.
There’s a vitamin shop
and condo’s starting in the 200’s.
They rest atop little cute storefronts
aligned with brick sidewalks
and black iron lamp posts.
You know, like the ones in “Mary Poppins”?
But, it wasn’t always like that.
It use to be like my side of town
just 5 miles East where dazed men light up
under florescent steel lamp posts
and sickly women walk broken concrete
‘til two, ’til three, sometimes, ‘til four in the morning;
where the Kroger sits across from a Burger King
in a parking lot of loose trash, adjacent
to the Church’s Chicken, alongside
the Baskin Robbins, attached
to the Dunkin Doughnuts—
there ain’t no FREAKIN’ Starbucks
on my side of town!
Just liquor stores screaming
in bold red caps: LIQUOR.
Street pharmacies replace vitamin shops.
There are no lofts
just apartments starting at 350 a month,
and old, old brick houses
whose mailboxes stay full of incentives:
request to pay off $60,000 mortgages
with promises to move residents
to better neighborhoods away from the city.
In order to put bookstores
and coffee shops,
condo’s,
and factory lofts,
and half a million dollar homes
on my side of town
with fresher spinach
and crispier broccoli,
brand new carrots
and, most importantly,
“reduced-sodium” tomato sauce,
alleged not suitable for my taste.
© 2008
April “AP” Smith
Fear
It is said when planning, one must
1. Predetermine a course of action,
2. Lay out goals,
4. Notify key personnel.
Dear Fear,
Deem this your notification: I am leaving you.
No longer will you distort my priorities; my goal is success
and this letter is the first step in my course of action.
You have held me down for way too long
and I am tired of the weight of your terror on my shoulders,
your touch of panic against my skin, apprehension clouding
my thoughts… . You are suffocating me
and I think it time I come up for fresh air, so
consider it Spring because I am done Falling for you.
Only a fool would allow seasonal flings
to become lifelong commitments and I’ll be damned
if I let you sucker me into a matrimony bound to end in failure.
I am smarter than that, deserve more... .
You see, I have finally figured it out: I am too good for you.
This is why you try keeping me boxed in behind walls of self-doubt,
your abusive tone taunting me even on good days,
persuading me to the belief that I am not worthy.
Well I am over feeding into your bull shit.
I am worthy!
Today, ends the belittling of myself to nurture your ego.
I have my own self-esteem to raise and I'm afraid there won’t be
enough room under this brick house once my personality
out-grows yours. This relationship is over. Pack your shit & leave,
and don’t let my confidence hit you where the good lord split you.
loose my name and (the) number of times you have cost me
opportunities, friendships and alliances,
time that I can never get back and money. Baby,
find another meal ticket because this card has reached its limit.
I am done supporting your dreadful ass. You are a nightmare!
And I am ready to come back to reality.
Reality is, I am destined for greatness,
but you got me hiding behind myself,
stuffing my face with excuse after excuse
because it makes the pain of dealing with you more comfortable.
I am scared half to death of letting go, inconsistent
as that may seem, but I must move forward
and free my potential from your clasp.
Fear, you have no place in where I am going.
© 2010
April “AP” Smith
