I Have A Friend

“A mind like yours

is a mind I would want.

Stick to the books and don't

let the females book you up.”

I have a friend who is humble.

He is as quiet as a werewolf and

has a brain about the size of this earth.

He is always smiling.

He reminds me of myself at times.

I sent him a text message one night.

“Your charisma makes you the center

of attention and it puts

you in the middle of some fantastic social

events. A dear friend or loved one may get jealous

if they feel that all your time is

being occupied by other matters.”

(Chicago Sun-times)

I know you may be wondering why in the world

I am steadily sending you these crazy text messages.

But the truth of the matter is this…

I am not even sure if we are even friends.

It’s like when I call you on the phone,

you are quick to say, “Let me call you back.”

It had not been a minute.

You may have other things to do but when someone says,

“Let me call you back,”

I expect them to give me a call on the same day.

As a child growing up, I had no friends.

Many people did not like the way I talked.

Many people did not like me for who I was.

At first, it bothered me to have no one to talk to.

And if anyone was crazy enough to say something to me, then

they were crazy enough to take a beat down.

I don’t want people to look at me as a bad guy.

At some point in my life, I learned to live with these things.

I learned to accept the fact that people will talk about me

until the day I die. Oh, I used to let anger get to me.

It all began in the third grade.

The year was 1997.

I had gone to Dawes Elementary.

My parents had moved from 79th and Pulaski to 73rd and Perry.

When we moved to 73rd and Perry,

my mother had told me to keep my mouth shut.

If anyone at Dawes was to ask for my address,

I was to tell them that my address is 3801 W. 78th Place.

For weeks, they questioned me about a particular address.

After a while, I got tired of them asking me the same old question…

“Did you move?”

Finally I told them that I had moved to 73rd and Perry.

And right then and there, I transferred to Deneen Elementary.

Ms. Bardwell was my teacher.

Many of the students did not like me.

One of the boys asked me if I knew how to fight

and I told him yeah.

Many of them  had been trying to pick a fight with me.

Every day of the week, there was someone chasing me home.

One day, I fell to the ground as I was running

And they had stomped the living daylights out of me.

I wound up with a busted nose and a permanent scar.