By Elizabeth Alexander
In D.C. there are black women
with golden Afros and African-
print jumpsuits. Sidewalks sizzle
in summer, a languid,
loving fizz, a Hey Girl
hissing from the streets,
ambient, hey girl on all sides. Walk
up and down Georgia Avenue
or Florida Avenue or Columbia Road:
How you doin’? Hey.
You never know what you will miss
when you leave, what will call you
back, what will disappear
forever, or what was never there
quite as you now see it, hear it, write it
in memory’s poem.
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My Thursday was as unexciting as my Wednesday was awesome. It's still ridiculously chilly for April (we have a freeze warning tonight!), it was overcast, I had laundry to put away and beads to restring, plus lots of unaddressed email and news and stuff from the day before. I did go walk in the park so I could get some exercise and I went around the corner to meet friends for a very unsuccessful Pokemon raid, but the only other incident worth reporting was Maddy bringing me pumpernickel bagels from work.
Cheryl, Paul, and I watched The Wolverine, which remains in my top three X-Men films, has very interesting women, and uses every possible excuse to get Hugh Jackman's shirt off. Here are some photos from around Shaw in DC before the concert last night, a neighborhood full of gorgeous murals, jazz clubs and other musical venues, the famous Ben's Chili Bowl, Civil War and 1968 riot memorials, plus lots of new restaurants and expensive housing around Howard University:
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