There’s a hot pot of oxtails waiting for him on the stove, the element glows red, like his headgear, or the grapefruits in, the bowl, the table it’s platform the color of hematite, the speaker feeding him the sounds of the tri-state area, he’s lost in his head, but a “Q!” from his mother snaps him out of it. His mind dreams to summer, full of adventures like an Indiana Jones movie, his heart smiles at the thought of all his friends around him, Enjoying the island’s plethora of beaches, their waters deep, and rich with history, at night the town pools water are still and clear, like glass that can’t cut you Driving through Massapequa, windows cracked, the smell of All American intoxicates him Hey maybe this place isn’t so bad after all… But he’s been here his whole life, and knows of the vast world that awaits beyond his habitat, he knows he must get a taste of the outside, a new territory, the ambition surges within him, he can legally do what he wants, choose his own path, The st...
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