in kosovo, the oldest daughter assumes the blame and the youngest carries the tea, lemon sweet. when the chinese toast, they drink to the bottom before setting their glasses down. in brooklyn, a woman stopped me in the street, saying, "stick 'em up, little girl, and gimme that coat!" it had white fur at the collar and cuffs, and it made me feel like i had money. she stood in my path and howled at the moon. i went home and put my head in an oven just to keep warm, because they threatened to turn off our heat if we didn't pay up, and all i had was the fur coat that i slept in when blankets weren't enough.
the ferry was free, so i spent the winters wrapped in that coat chugging out past lady liberty and back again, watching the gulls wheel around the deck. the ferry was free and safe. when our street flooded, when the heat went out, when our first landlord billy became a woman and refused to put doors on the house, when our second landlord mr. gold landed us in the squatters' court (he stole the deed from a lady named elaine), when our boyfriends were mugged, when michelle left for the insane asylum, when gregory bled out on our steps after a drive-by shooting, when the blizzard trapped the trains underground, when people on the platforms and streets had seizures all around me
the ferry was free and safe and my fur coat was warm. my sister brought me lemon sweet tea and i drank it to the bottom before i set down my glass.
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