I walked miles in old boots under Western sun on scorched Earth.
My uncle’s Android was my traveling companion to authenticate my
American Journey. My mission was to prevent homelessness from visiting my
disabled mother. I carried documents, photos and a homemade deposition to The
Dept Of Housing.
Homelessness Made Easy For Dummies
A Mural For My American Dreams By
Danny Aponte, 6th Grader At Public School 161
There was a new landlord in The South Bronx with an army of
henchmen to bang on doors to shout no renewal of leases, to throw clothing,
furniture and toys out of windows to the courtyard below and to pressure my
mother to sign papers to move her out.
Sloppy workmanship finally broke her arm after city
inspectors ordered the landlord to make repairs to the apartment she moved to
in the time of a President moved out of The White House and All The President’s
Men.
The sight of my poor mom in pain made my blood go cold.
I’ve been given leave of absence to fix family problems.
No guns or any other weapons allowed for this mission.
I have to learn the ways of lawyers
I have to learn to throw the book at the landlord and his
henchmen with deadly accuracy.
I have to learn how to get the attention of a county that
seems to suffer from attention deficit. Americans love their movies, don’t they
now?
I got one for them.
I walked forward and back in time to The War Games, a
children’s version of Apocalypse Now. The Fox Street Boys attacked us with
packages of firecrackers on The Fourth Of July. We scattered in the midst of
loud explosions. I regrouped my team on a rooftop to procure fireworks from a
14-year-old Irish arms dealer who bore a resemblance to Jughead from The Archie
comic books with the only difference being a cigarette that drooped from his
lips as he looked at us with eyes at junky half-mast.
I heard you boys had a wee spot of The Troubles with The Fox
Street Boys, Irish kid said words to that effect. What can I do you boyos
for?
What do you have, I asked in low Eastwood growl.
He opened a footlocker of pyrotechnics and I saw what was
needed to get revenge
Oh, you want more pain, was the shout from the other side of
the backyard. The punks advanced on us as they held lighters to strings of
firecrackers. They stopped and looked in disbelief when I popped out from
behind steel garbage cans. I made a homemade RPG stuffed with skyrockets.
Faster than Captain Kirk could shout NOW! SULU! FULL SPREAD OF TORPEDOES, well,
you get the idea. Boom. Boom. Boom.
We cheered and laughed as The Foxes ran with tails tucked
only to return with bigger missiles that must have wrecked their mothers’
welfare check budgets.
Such was war in the time of burnt out buildings and
abandoned cars in The South Bronx of America.
While a Puerto Rican was incarcerated along with John McCain at The
Hanoi Hilton, my mother’s husband horsewhipped and, in a sense, water boarded
me.
A marine recruiter put his hand on my shoulder to stop me
from joining The Air Force. I looked at his hand before staring into his eyes.
Spooked, he backed away and then broke out in an ear-to-ear grin. I’m looking
at a real Marine, the Jarhead said at the Melrose Recruiting Station several
blocks from where I lived. His fellow leatherneck also grinned in admiration at
the fires in my eyes.
You’re Special Forces material, son.
Oh my. I’m blushing. I know a couple of boys that are going
to be rewarded with pork chops for dinner if they can make their quota by
getting me to sign up. I had made an appointment with The Air Force as a
stepping-stone to outer space. I’ve planned it since the boy I was put together
star ships to hang from the ceiling in my bedroom
The Fly Boys scrambled out of their office down the hall
from the marines. A tug-of-war ensued with both sides unwilling to lose. It’s
nice to be wanted.
Memories can be recalled by music sometimes. Almost Heaven/
West Virginia… Country roads, take me home….
I coughed blood into a respirator in a hospital of strangers
in the time of The Ebola Scare in New York City.
I thought of my mother who sang a little prayer for the boy
I was like Dionne Warwick forever and forever Who is going to take care of her?
The ceiling lights became brighter and triggered a flashback to a light that
tossed around my ships, comic books, and clothes and moved my bed closer to the
window to pull me onto another realm.
The boy I was resisted with will power beyond his years. I
wasn’t ready to go.
I woke up on a bed at Lincoln Hospital. A female doctor came
in to give me the results of the X-Rays and blood work. No Cancer. No Ebola. No
HIV. Nothing wrong. You’re fine.
I saw the lights again when a reporter held up his smart
phone. Strange Lights appeared several feet from the building I live in. The
UFOs made the cover of The New York Post.
The reporter gave me his number to call in case the lights
came back.
There are aliens in America and throughout the world.
One of them is called poverty.
So make with the mild mannered reporter and report.
I believe you will one day write The Great American Novel,
said my 6th grade English teacher. Just write what you know. I
crawled inside a TV abandoned in a backyard in The South Bronx of buildings
that resembled England after Germany fired V2 rockets in WWII. I looked out and
saw clearly home was far away from The Brady Bunch. It was a wasteland it was
said of TV by the first president of The FCC. From Death Valley Days I saw a
cowboy ride fourth into the real world as President Ronald Reagan who promised
to fix The South Bronx. President James
Carter rolled up his sleeves with hammer and nails in hand to build homes. Then
President William Jefferson Clinton showed up on Fox Street to marvel at the
new family homes. 3 commander-in-chiefs, the 3 amigos in a show called The USA.
Homelessness Made Easy For Dummies
By
Danny Aponte, 6th Grader At Public School 161
The French Riviera of The Bronx is Orchard Beach of
sun-bleached hot sands. I walked on water sandbars with a diver’s mask worked
for by shining shoes and delivering groceries. Behind me was a memory of my
mother’s husband who abused me.
Among other things, he tried to drown me in the bathtub.
He didn’t know I could hold my breath longer than any kid at
the swimming pool.
Air was almost depleted as I ran series of exits at fast
speed to settle on an option.
Play dead.
He let go of my neck when my body went into convulsions and
then limp. He ran out of the apartment with a strange yell and into the streets
of The South Bronx.
I will never come back to The South Bronx. I put on my mask
and dived into mystery.
The ocean washed the belt lashings off my back as I flew
free with euphoria.
I wanted to live in Atlantis
One day I would come back for my mother.
I had a grand adventure that was lost like sunken treasure
because of a Neo Nazi who pretended to be a friend so he could punch me several
times in the back of my head.
It felt like he had shot me rapidly at point blank range
into my brain.
Left for dead, my body disappeared deep into the
subconscious
I drifted.
If I’m dead, why do I dream of revenge by living life well?
I saw stars in every direction.
Every point of light was a memory close but far away
Then I was back in a glass building with VR visors.
What year is it?
2018
Copyrighted
By
Daniel Angel Aponte
Dreamer
DAAD
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