Main Squeeze Literary JournalFor Sesshu Foster The first time I heard you speak Spanish you spoke it well. Everyone was impressed. Especially all those brown parents. I bet they thought it was weird, were maybe even a little skeptical when they walked into the half-Asian English teacher’s room and were told no, they wouldn’t be needing a translator. […]
1. “Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy,” my mom read. I was lying on the green carpet in my brothers’ room, two bunk beds towering over me on either side. All four of the boys were snuggled under their covers, listening, probably falling asleep. My mother made up […]
⠀⠀⠀I’m 18 and I still can’t drive. But I hate staying inside, so sometimes I will walk one or two hours straight to the next city over and then add another three to account for all the zigzagging I do in between streets. I’m in Burbank again, the only city I ever walk to on […]
⠀⠀⠀I’m floating in a Best Western pool in Northern California while Amy is dying. When the car broke down on I-5 with only 48,000 miles on it—I knew we wouldn’t make it. There is a mural with a duck about three feet tall and skylights so dirty I can’t tell if it’s overcast today. ⠀⠀⠀The […]
⠀⠀⠀I’ve sort of moved home: a place where ‘Congradulations Class of 2020’ has been on the fire station’s interchangeable letter sign for about as long as the T R U M P flag’s flown from the pole; that’s only large enough to be census-designated because it’s filled with white people, which is also why the […]
Main Squeeze Literary Journal