“So what da buggah said?”
ma madda asked afta
ma fadda dropped me off.
“About what?”
“About what?” she said,
mocking me. “How about
what he promised fo pay
me in child support?
About what?
How about what he owes
me for trowing one brick
tru my windshield?”
She sat at the table looking
out da window, her eyes
neva looking at mine.
I always hated wen she
brought him up.
Even yeas afta, wen
I tot she wen foget him
longtime already, she
go, out of da blue,
“Dat buggah was one
real piece of shit
I tell you.”
* * * * *
I neva saw ma fadda
trow da concrete brick
true da windshield of
ma madda’s cah
but was obvious wen
I wen come home from
school an wen see da
brick laying on her dash
dea must have been
plenny angah, plenny
violence fo lodge da brick
halfway true da glass.
Ma madda could do
dat to one man, drag
her finganails true da
chalkboard of his back.
She wen leave da brick
like dat for days an den
wen call all her friends
fo checkom out.
“Imagine driving around
town wit dat!” she would
say, an everyone
would laugh.
Prompt: Unknown