Thank y'all.
I appreciate the noises.
[CHUCKLING]
So this next poem, I was reading--
I was teaching Rita Dove's "Fifth Grade Autobiography."
And I thought, oh, yeah, a "Fourth Grade Autobiogr"--
I don't know.
But then I completely forgot that that was the trajectory.
[LAUGHING]
And it was only later, standing next to Rita Dove--
I was like, oh, no.
That's what happened.
But the thing that might be useful to know
about this poem is the riots I mentioned in here
are the LA uprisings in the early '90s.
And I just bought salted plums from the 7-Eleven.
That was a childhood treat.
Just pucker your whole face.
I don't know if y'all like salted plums,
if you've had them.
They're quite salty.
"Fourth Grade Autobiography"--
"We live in Los Angeles, California.
We have a front yard and a backyard.
My favorite things are cartwheels, salted plums,
and playing catch with my dad.
I squeeze the grass and dirt between my fingers.
Eat my tongue white.
He launches every ball into orbit.
Every ball drops like an anvil, heavy and straight
into my hands.
I am afraid of riots and falling and the dark.
The sunset of flames ringing our block, groceries
and Asian-owned storefronts.
No one to catch me.
Midnight walks from his room to mine.
I believe in the devil.
I have a sister and a brother and a strong headlock.
We have a dog named Spunky, fawn and black.
We have an olive tree.
A black walnut tree.
A fig tree.
We lie in the grass and wonder who writes in the sky.
I lie in the grass and imagine my name, a cloud drifting.
Saturday dance parties.
Everyone drunk on Pink Panties, Screwdrivers,
and Canadian Club.
Dominoes and spades.
Al Green and Mack 10.
Sometimes mama dances with the dog, Sometimes my dad
dances with me.
I am careful not to touch.
He is careful to smile with his whole face."