MichelangeloDeBattisti

\tr/hen I First Saw You On The 'L

by Raphy Reynaud

When I first sawyou on the'L, I was scared. You stared at us with eyes sharper than syringes. Do you still ride the night train through the ghetto? Snorting cocaine, head tucked underneath a heavywinter coat?

Because I knowyou still play jazz.

I sawyou months later, Sitting on a plastic bucket in Grant Park, commanding the attention of pedestrians with a gold saxophone. But this isnt the orthodox jazz of Gold Coast cafes. This is the jazz that separates Chicago from NewYork, the filthy sound that separates us from Philly, San Fran, and Boston. The jazz that would jump kids for dollars on an empty green line train. The same soul music that is cold steel shoved down colder throats, that turns white snow red as throwback Bulls jerseys. I know why you make that music. I have seen you force your instrument to scream bloody murder through the west side. The blues that paint the ciry's soul with a ringing sound that dances sideways off of steel-framed glass giants and then trickles into the suburbs.

I want to listen to the song of the projects, and ofpoverfy, and ofhunger.

Culture me with the rhythm of Jamaican slum roots that I can listen to because I will never see it in person I just want to hear you serenade with your saxophone and I'll throw you another bill to feed your addiction. Give you money for what keeps you playing jazz-

Slave's Perspective

by Isabel Mon aghan

You can say a man's freedom is earned Through the sweat of his brow. But mine has been given,

From blood that Courses through your conscience Like wine through a set of hell-bound bones.

From your mindless pencil scrapings Stolen straight from a blindfolded God's Honest outstretched hand. Your eraser marks digging the grave of my servitude. From your belief in your own ten commandments, As they trace the history of a series of intolerabilities, Numbering offapologies to mankind Until the numbers are so small they stop counting.

Only to conclude that I am in desperate need of you.

From your destruction of my skin, my bones, my blood. Whipped until its thinness seeps through The holes my mother, father, and sister left in me. Now I can be in your image, white lord. I have been rid of my soul.

Prayer For A Repalrman

by Peter Vishneski

"Warning: High Maintenance." Fix me?

No, Sir, close your mindless lips. Those words that mean to quiet My constant grumblings Only fuel this unrelenting hunger. Words, just a tune-up for this broken nuisance I wish not to be. No, Sir, do not stick that wrench in me. I have tasted this lusty metal before, And it is cold, fleeting, fickle as the solace I so long to breathe... Fix me?

In my solitude I curse to myself As I tire of this cycle, breaking down And fruitlessly fondled by tramps. O, woeful, spiteful pains of silence That turn men on their heels And short-circuit mywires without effort

O demon who haunts such wasteful dreams, Begone! Leave me to be exorcised forever Free me of your torturous embrace! O please, Sir, fix me!

No, do not tighten those screws. They're wound as tight as that revolting clock Whose tick and tock grows As my expiration date draws nigh. No, Sir, I do not ask foryour hand. I do not ask for shallow words or nether wrench. I simply ask to be fixed-for good. To no longer be burdened by this hunger, To no longer be high maintenance.

What, Sir? What do I wish? I wish to speak likeyou "Welcome. Satisfaction Guaranteed."

Fix me? Yes, Sir, do what you will.

Starstruck

by Lauren Frost

January z8th, ry86 ChristaMcAulffi

Theywatched me die At 48,ooo feet

and T+73.162 seconds

Such acceleration Like when I learned to crawl Mommyand Daddywere 48,ooo feet high and held me for T+73.162 seconds

Such exhilaration Like when I learned to kiss Our lips were 48,ooo feet wide and it lasted forT+73:162 seconds

Such exasperation Likewhen I learned to teach Children's minds were 48,ooo feet away and they listened forT+73.162 seconds Such annihilation

Like when I learned to doubt But today my fears were 48,ooo feet deep and I dreamtforT+73.t62 seconds

Theywatched me die At 48,ooo feet

and T+73.162 seconds

Yetwe lived on No one heard our silent tears smack into a slate of diamond ocean at two hundred and seven miles per hour

Yet we lived on I still do

At 48,ooo feet and T+73.162 seconds