karma and adulthood, part 1 by zakia henderson brown
Written by: on Nov 12 | writing showcase |it began with the guitar. the saintly tinge of wood, strings, intention. tracy chapman taught you all the truths you’d ever need back in 1988. you were only four or five, and when you revisited her gems, it was too late. you knew them as folk gold, not a manual. now here you are, the surprise posterboy of full circles, approaching the tragic finishing of your good fortune, calm, wits. seriously wondering if one can lose his salvation, as the handbill on the floor of the “3″ train mused. you picked it up, on your way to the end, where you received the spoiled milk of all communication. i don’t love you, she said, her slow tempo leaving the words suspended between you, the only thing lasting. no “sell by” date on this carton. hoping to escape the blue note, you begin the frantic search for someone with a now classic fast car. there is no escape, tracy would add as a footnote, in the shape of a perfect chord.