You would think there’s a Tumblr’r out there who would’ve jumped on the possibility of Fuck Yeah Roberta’s!  I guess even Bushwick has its limits.

Bushwick kids
barfing
pink, or orange,

Wincing out the spoiled sweet.

Mothers call
from the
minivan,

Ignored; we focus on concrete.

A moment of standing on the misty empty orange street as the director contemplates a final shot.  (9/10)

A roof, a script supervisor, Bushwick (a failed palindrome). (7/10)

It was when I was walking down the street, perhaps a little too quickly, as it caused me to slowly close the gap between the slouched figure in the hooded sweatshirt and myself. Sure enough, with my footfalls within his earshot, he stole a glance over his shoulder. It was only after a few more steps that he turned around and said, “You have a good night.”

“You too,” I replied, an attempt to be neighborly.

“I didn’t mean to scope you out, but it’s Bushwick, you can’t be too careful. You’re white, I’m black, we all gotta’ watch out.”

“I don’t know, there’s a lot of families around here. It’s not so bad.”

“Family don’t mean shit,” was his response. “I’m Drac,” he continued. “Track?” I misheard. “Drac.” “Track?”

“Like Dracula,” and he smiles. Sure enough, he’s missing the front four teeth on the top; only two vampiresque fangs show while he grins.

“That’s a great nickname.” “I know.” And then he turned into a bat and flew away.

Evil lair in Bushwick.  4/23/10

Sophomore Year Throwback.  4/3/10

Pizza boxes, waiting.  4/11/10