Opportunity 3
Writing featured in Opportunity - Issue 3
Bush versus Gore
I think I picked Bush, that’s pretty embarrassing
But I didn’t know
I was just trying to be different
And I guess that’s where our story begins
Bullied, assaulted, loss
Bus driver
His name was nick and his name was David
Her name was Jillian, it’s name was math book, hard covered, deteriorating stop and shop paper bag cover
It’s name was gum, it’s name was faggot, it’s name was fat fucking bitch, it’s name was I will fucking cut you if you look at me
Trust
Patty
Couch
World war 3
Not knowing
Knowing enough
Distrust
It was 5th grade
And I was in Ms. Callahan’s class, right?
Mm, why do I see a TV in Ms. Hannigan’s room?
She liked my moms meatballs…. That’s another story
Did we see it?
Did we know?
Cory
Cory and I
Cory dalton
We knew to ask
Did he just tell?
I don’t know if anyone else told us up until then
He was kind
I remember his face in the rear view bus driver mirror
I wonder if he knows how important he was to me and my safety
Patty on the couch
Harley shirt
Worn, soft black Gildan
Years old, grease stained, worn, soft and soft
Denim
Wearing sneakers in the house
There wasn’t a rule
Where’s my mom?
She was totally home
World war 3
I remember when they found him
And there were losses - closer and further
Now I’m 30
I wasn’t drafted
I am disconnected to the military industrial complex and I’d like to keep it that way
But I’m 30
Sheila’s first husband…
And the stories - Lori seeing the chaos from Union square, Todd stalled somewhere near Terrytown on the LIRR,
It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?
Was it supposed to be this long?
I’m like, 30!
Hasn’t anyone won yet?
War seems like the equivalent to Bus 2
World war 3
Untitled
Coughing and sweating on my deck.
Good morning.
I’d step in traffic before disappointing you,
What’s hunger?
Have I ever been hungry?
What a slap in the face of satisfaction for my stomach to rumble.
We’re FINE.
In fucking fact,
I’m starving.
Your sick,
But I’m dying.
Braintree
We stopped at the Braintree T-station.
I’m on the commuter rail, going south. Around here there’s an erroneous smell, a bubble of filth we push through. I could notice it from the highway.
Stinks of men, older men with intentions. Bad intentions. Entitlement and a hard dick.
I hear you say; that’s weird - I’d never think of that.
I hear me say, it is weird, I can’t stop thinking about that.