I got to my train stop today and
overheard an older black woman’s
conversation on the phone. Something
along the lines of:
“Sharice looks just like her father,
the same dark pensive eyes,
oh boy, don’t they—Yes, yes—
don’t they give you chills? And she
talks just like him. Oh, both of ‘em
can go on forever, can’t they? You
know—Yes, well you know she’s gon’
give him the same problems he gave
me—Yes—I’m telling you now! I just
hope she stay out of trouble, yeah?
Them smart eyes is liable to wander,”
Smart eyes, liable to wander. That stuck with me.