Monday, October 27, 2014


The African-American kids upstairs began their usual stampede at 6 AM on 10/27/14. 


 


On Father’s Day, I woke up to find myself in the kitchen walking on water like Jesus on Television. They left the faucet running again. Again, I empty pots and wait for the Dominican super to show up to knock and bang on the door upstairs until it reveals a bleary-eyed black woman Welfare had taken out of homeless shelter with her kids and into building my disabled mother has lived in since Watergate Scandal of the 1970s.


 


Calmly and with consideration to the black woman’s problems, I asked again for a reduction on noise pollution. No apology was offered as she closed the door with her last words: I forgot to close the faucet.


 


The super once caught her husband smoke marijuana in the hallway of graffiti that grew like toxic mold on bathroom walls. He disrespected the super as he did me when I talked to his blood-shot eyes about respecting my mother’s rights as a tenant. I feared if I made a call to 311 he might retaliate by hurting or killing my mother.


 


No matter how patiently I addressed a jobless black man he kept pulling the pin on the grenade of confrontation to make himself feel like a man with power.


 


Swastikas cannot be made without black and white. 


 


Again, I pleaded for mercy on behalf of my mother who has several appointments at Lincoln Hospital after an examination for breast Cancer. I saw in his eyes Apartheid appear like a possible case of Ebola in a 5-year old in The Bronx.


 


What happens to his children in this poorly designed anti-poverty program?

 

Do the kids become another crop of criminals to be harvested by bullets and illegal chokeholds? Across the river from this homeless shelter of a neighborhood is the halfway house called Riker’s Island Prison. Across this homeless shelter is a funeral home. There is higher education up the block called The Public Library.

 

Read three ways to leave The City of Illegal Guns and Roses.

 

I know the road to hell is paved with many good intentions but it would be a good try to get the mayor’s wife to give counseling to that family in The South Bronx of America.

 

This would be Pre-K homework far from finished

 




 


 


 


 


Welcome to The United Selfies of Admerica


 



 


 

Art Design & Text By Daniel Angel Aponte

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