Archive for the ‘displacement’ Category

Process Server

May 16, 2019

Process Server

Someone was knocking on the door. No. It can’t be. It isn’t that again. This is not happening. It should not have happened even once, that time so long ago. She swallowed hard and opened the door. She might as well get it . Hi, the man standing before her had an envelope in his hand. Are you the tenant? Yes, she told him. Here is something that you need to sign for me. The man gave her a legal-looking document and a pen. Thank you, she said. There was no need to read beyond the word she already knew by heart: Eviction. She wanted to run away very far and hide, not have to see or have anything to do with being displaced again. She couldn’t let the man see how she felt; she became a good actress. Her smile was brief but bright. Here, I have signed it. Have a good day, the man said. Same to you, she said and closed the door. She grabbed the door knob. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to move.



What was It?

May 1, 2019


Something happened to you. What was it? Where does that anger in your face, in your body, come from? Where does the energy to make people uncomfortable come? What happened to you long ago, probably when you were a kid? Do you mind if instead of love, you see fear in the ones you deal with? Do you mind pain that has no end, nothing good in sight? All these are unanswered questions, questions that you need to get to the bottom of before it’s too late.





Life Struggles

April 24, 2019

Life Struggles

Why did it happen? Why did I even bother to make myself grow up? Why did I learn what I learned if it all means I can’t have what I want? I know what I want, what I need, but all I got is the word settle or that the phrase: No, it is not for you. Forget about it. I did all the effort; I forced myself to face the facts, to be brave and so bold, just so I can get the doors shut in my face. How can be me, the real me, if I have to pretend to be someone else?


April 11, 2019


The taking—it never stops. The hands grab stuff from this and that person, from this and that incident. The hands are greedy. They are smart. They know who has the money and who doesn’t. They can smell vulnerability and apparent helplessness a mile or so away. The hands take; then the body sleeps. The body sleeps to forget.




April 11, 2019


Where? Where did they all go? Where did I go? What happened to them? What happened to me? I can’t find them. I can’t find the person that I am, that I know myself to be. The dreams, the hopes, everything is gone. I am gone too—never to return the way that I know deep in my heart and soul. I am stranded here on the street. I am crying out and no one sees. I live a situation I dislike intensely. I live Hell.



March 18, 2019


The woman sat on the sidewalk. Two people walked past her. The man asked: Do you have a dollar for us, sister? The woman standing next to him said nothing. She looked down at the sidewalk. The first woman opening her mouth wide  said: No, I have no money. She wanted to tell the man: What do mean asking me for money? I am sitting here. I am panhandler. You should be ashamed of yourself. The man asked: Are you ok? The older woman nodded her head. After they left to cross the street she shook her head. I can’t believe that life on the street can be this crazy.



The Mess

March 15, 2019


I hate disarray. I hate ugliness. I love tidiness and beauty. I hate lack of space for prize possessions. I live with disarray, ugliness and there is no space for anything that I want and need and want to keep. I hate putting away things and not see them anymore. I want them in front of me. I want to touch and feel them if they remind me of long gone dear ones. I miss me. I miss the person that I was. I don’t like the person that I am—scrounging for this, scrounging for that. I scrounge for a few minutes of peace and quiet. I remember my better days only too well. There is no pretending they never existed. There is no pretending I wouldn’t want them back if I could have them.



The Wind

March 12, 2019

The Wind

The wind blew the raggedy black plastic cape. The force of the wind reminded her of anger, of frustration. The wind slapped her face hard. Her lips stiffened and her eyes closed. She didn’t to see this. She didn’t want to be on the sidewalk. Another day—it was another day of the same.















The Eyes

March 6, 2019

His ears were almost glued to the back of his head. His eyes looked at the person across the room; they were fully aware. The animal’s body was stiff to the touch. Was the person going to move? What was the person going to do? When was the person going to do it, whatever it was? He made himself smaller. The person had his back turned to him. The animal turned his head towards his family member. “It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine,” the family member told him. “I will protect you. You can count on that.” The animal’s body relaxed a bit, but not much. The family member sighed. Crying wouldn’t do anything now. She closed her eyes. “Stay with me.”

The Hands

March 3, 2019

The Hands

There wasn’t much left of them. The man clutched a nearly empty can of Cobra beer with the palm of his hand. The fingers, except for the thumbs, had been cut off. He looked up at the people entering the subway car. Don’t get near me. I don’t like you, he’d say. Some of the passengers backed off; others laughed silently and turned away. He looked down at his pants. The smell of urine enveloped the car. From a bag, he took out a pair of pants and placed it on his lap. He laughed, muttering something no one could understand.  The train came to a stop. People went out to another car.