Tattoos

I was in the office today, putting some files away. There are two inmate clerks who work there (no idea what they did but it is a Level 4 prison). Xerox guy has “Clara Street” tattooed on his neck. I asked him “Clara Street? Are you from Cudahy?” He looks at me like I had just tasered him–yeah, why? How did I know Cudahy?

I only taught there for ten years. Once they set the city on fire, after the Rodney King verdict, I decided to move out. Too violent, too volatile, too explosive. Once the Popeye’s Chicken place is set on fire and the looters are carrying stuff out of the market where I did my shopping? It just sorta wasn’t where I wanted to live anymore.

So Xerox Boy looks at me and says”Miss Bridge?” The other clerk, Staple Guy, looks at me and says, “Miss Bridge?” Turns out I had on Xerox Boy in class and my sister in law had the other one. Xerox Boy went on to be in Miss A’s class–whom he remembered VIVIDLY. “Miss A, you remember her. She had like, yeah red hair and was real purdy, She wore these really great shoes.”

I need to email Miss A. She still teaches in a real school.

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