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parts 3​,​4​,​&5

from empty space​(​s​)​. by guero

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lyrics

3.

The neighborhood drunk stumbles into his sister, Carrie Mae’s home. He barely notices her three grandchildren rolling matchbox cars between them on the floor.

He says her name the words slur together into soup. Her voice lifts in defense along with her hand to usher him out.

They burned down Moe’s. They burned down Moe’s. They burned down Moe’s. They burned down Moe’s. They Burned it down. They burned Moe. Moe Burnt. They Burnt Moe’s. Moe’s gone. Moe’s gone. Moe...

The alphabet soup had a gin base. It wafts through the small house. Carrie Mae was sure the whole Eastside could smell it. The kids smack lips to show a detest for the smell they could only pretend to taste. Dreams of future delicacies growing to haunt Ronnie Jr. who would grow to love its smell. While Jaz and Yolanda took his turn rolling his Hot Wheels to each other while he watches the scene unfold

They couldn’t leave us a damn pebble.

Carrie Mae shakes her head in disgust. An anguish that she knows too well. Death. Saudade--only no happiness here. A deep sadness in every crease of her body. The weight of the news breaks her will to speak. She is Atlas with just her appendages and a faint whisper that held the question, “does Moe know” slipping out from underneath.

Ronnie Jr. sees it leave her lips. Watches it rise above the ceiling fan and stay there. i am sure he still sees it on occasion. Hope he still takes quick glances at it before he heads up the stairs from his night shift. It is void of all meaning and every mention of the memory.




4.

A fanfare blaring car horns signal mass exodus. People running from the city. Black kids grip the white Barbies their Aunts pass down to them. Usually in moments when they have nothing left to give. They give the kids their memories of better days. Before they knew the difference between pure and shame. Before they thread the line of perfection or ideal through the eye of “not you.”

They scream Midland. Shout Bay City. Settle for anywhere but here. Keisha’s momma proclaims Bay City. It is where Madonna is from. Says her daughter can be found by some record company there. Fuck American Idol. Says they don’t let us sing how we need to. Keisha’s momma’s gold cap gleaming from her mouth as she hangs out the driver’s seat.

Nah, i know Stevie’s from here, but Barry ain’t nowhere here. And ain’t no Motown ‘round here. If we’re going to get out, we need Pop music money. Need that Beyonce, Rihanna. Need that King Kunta and SZA “got [this] cover for the weekend” money.

Years from now Keisha, who sits on the back seat of the Ford Focus, will describe the way her mother took her hair from the braids. Removed the letters and beads from the ends and mixed in the relaxer into her hair. Stripping her of Double-Dutch in the road until the streetlights cracked the mystical nature of the sunset. Hiding behind the horizon to recharge somewhere far, far the fuck away from here. With every kink unwinding from her hair, she losses the moments she ran to her father when he came home after work.

Naps scare money away.

Keisha’s mom would say this on a constant loop while she sat under the hairdryer. But that is years from now. Today she is seven, and has no concept of why she will be forced to play piano for her church. Today she is seven and relaxer is being worked into her hair in order for her to be something she has no understanding of.




5.

Seventh hour at Midland High, Andrew sits in a ninth grade Biology Classroom on his first day praying that his teacher will crash through the heavy lab door. Andrew was particularly nervous, but there were too many eyes sprinting in his direction and then sidestepping out of eye contact with him. Andrew starts to relate the stare patterns and the rising murmur of collecting in the class to that of a hornet’s nest. Buzzing with the excitement or danger of something new. Something that isn’t like them. Don’t look like them. Is not them.

Finally, Richard Dickerson, but everyone took pride in calling him Dick, extends leg muscles and a hand to introduce himself to Andrew. Andrew responds in a semi-uniform fashion.

Dick smiles displaying rows of heavy metal around rows of heavy metal encasing a row already straightened teeth. His parents paid for years of correction. Correction. Whiter teeth. Brightest smile. All-American hatred.

Where are you from?

Stumble through a story about why the family moved across town schools across from the high school midway through the semester. Leave out everything to do with the number of pills, the number of nights in the Mental Health ward,

No, no. Where are you really from?

Look around. The class is making sideways looks at him. Roots was playing. The only black kid in the room and other the kids will promptly ask how the experience of feeling the gaze of 28 nonblack students turns to see the reaction of your face to see if they are allowed to cringe, smile, or laugh is reoccurring.

The Lab door flings open.

Nails bow a silence that settles over Saginaw. No soul left. Stevie’s gone. Serena left. The rappers that pretend to be making moves are all dead or moved to Atlanta. Kids afraid to go outside. They spend days waiting for bombs to drop. Wait for the cloud and the pollutants to waft all over the room. Wait for the local chemical company to disappear, disperse. Stop. Burn. Waiting for the Tittabawassee to form new rivers of acid. Stop. Burn. Wait for the Tittabawassee to swallow Midland like an insolent child. And then up and leave it sunken.

Leave it as an artifact for American-centric Historians will proclaim its importance. Rewrite the chain of events. Rewrite war crimes. Show Agent Orange in a positive light. Spin the levels of toxins in river. Change the meaning of death of thousands of people that have cancer as a necessary sacrifice for the common good. Is good even that common.

credits

from empty space​(​s​)​., released November 24, 2020

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guero Midland, Michigan

Hi my name is Thomas and I make music that feels like a middle schooler at the 7-11 mixing genres at the slurpee station. It comes out alright.

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