Tag: Philadelphia

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Baltimore Ave.

That’s it. Baltimore Ave. It was never really a destination, but it was certainly along the way. I used to ride the 34 trolley along the tracks from City Hall, or from 40th Street, all the way down the line to 58th or 60th and Baltimore Ave. every day on my way home. Home was … Continue reading Baltimore Ave.

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Block Party

“Sittin’ with your friends as y’all reminisce about the days growing up and the first person ya kissed. And as I think back makes me wonder how the smell from a grill can spark up nostalgia.” ~Will Smith Saturdays in May in the ghetto. Philadelphia loud and heavy with mood. The base booming from a … Continue reading Block Party

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Blur

I was drunk by noon, just another day in a long line of similarity, trapped in repetitions better left for those with nothing better to do. It wasn’t my fault either, but even I couldn’t make myself believe that convenient lie. It’s poison, the drink I always preferred, that turned my keen gaze into imperfection … Continue reading Blur

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6th & South, Circa 1997

I hate her, with her hand on her hip like she’s got attitude, spouting words like water, ranting for her supper like some old guy in skinny jeans with a goatee. But she’s not that old guy and she’s never going to be. Instead she’s a pretentious rich girl who feels like “slumming it” is … Continue reading 6th & South, Circa 1997

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The Distance

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“Oh, the distance is not doable in these bodies of clay, my brother. Oh, the distance makes me uncomfortable. Guess it’s natural to feel this way.”

The bus is crawling down Market Street at a snail’s pace as we sit here wasting time that could be better spent. Right now I’m thinking about how I would have probably already been at the office by now if I hadn’t thought it was good luck that the bus reached the corner at the same time I did. That hadn’t happened in months, so I was momentarily blinded by it as I climbed aboard and swiped my Transpass through the reader. Now I sit here in the middle of the bus, regret etched across my features. And I’m not alone.

When I moved to the outskirts of downtown Philadelphia I thought I had it made. It meant less commuting time and more culture. Of course part of the tradeoff was the declining sense of safety that had shrouded me living in the suburbs, ensconced in all the trappings of distance. See, distance is all it takes to feel secure, distance from where most crimes take place, distance from people who walk everywhere they go, and distance from the type of crazy you can only find in a city’s center. But I moved anyway because the pros outweighed the cons, or at least they did on my checklist.

But as I sit here, and the clock keeps on ticking, I’m starting to rethink why those pros weighed down the scale a few short months ago. It helped that the apartment I was in wasn’t mine, that it was ours, and that he was gone. It just felt haunted ever since he vanished, one day there and the next gone. Continue reading “The Distance”