Million Dollar Subway

Posting my nephew's English assignment. I enjoyed reading it so much I just had to share!

If I had 10 million dollars to improve the subway stations, I would focus on changing the appearance of the station, trains and the people that work hard for the MTA. First thing I’ll do is get rid of the metro cards. Nobody likes paying for these annoying little cards. So I would have a biometric system that scans your fingerprint. If the machine reads “access granted” you’re free to go but if it says “access denied” then you have must have some kind of weapon on you and will not be allowed to move on. If so, a cacophony would go off throughout the station. Then the weapon would appear on a projector screen so it’ll be easier on the police to know exactly where to search.

Once you get through, you don’t want to walk into a hot station. So, I will make sure every station has air conditioning. Also, I want my stations to be a convenience for everybody. I will achieve this goal by inserting elevators and/or escalators in the subway stations. This is purposely for those who have any kind of leg problem or are physically disabled.

Another improvement I would make is to the trains themselves. You can’t go into a beautiful station and walk into a disgrace of a train. So, I would make all trains state of the art. I’ll have computer operated trains. My trains will be up-to-date with the latest technology and be so comfortable you’ll think you’re in your own living room.

Rush hour is horrible in the afternoon. What I decided to do is make the station much taller and a little bit wider. This is because I’m going to make the trains double-deckered. It might put me over my budget but whatever it takes to satisfy the people, I’ll try my hardest to make it happen. If the trains become double-deckered, twice as many people can get on, making rush hour much calmer and relaxed.

However, while making all these brilliant changes. I still don’t want to interfere with people’s workspace. I don’t want to take jobs away from anybody especially from those who’ve been working for the trains for about two decades. I still need to be fair to everybody else.

Now some people might be wondering, ‘Well, exactly who’s going to benefit from your brilliant improvements?’ I have one simple word for those who are still a little apprehensive…Everyone! Everyone from average Joes to multi-million dollar making celebrities. Once again, change has come to America.

--By Jabari Clarke

Autumn Feeling

I mistook the feeling for a cold.
My loss of appetite and fatigue symptoms
of germs acquired through casual contact.

Maybe because October started on a Thursday,
without the dread a Monday brings
or the predictable end of a Sunday.

After the accident, I tuned out
all reminders of my father,
even the pennant races he loved,
which I loved because of him.

But this infection waited for crisp, autumn air
to stir up leaves that had fallen away.

In loving memory of Louis Stevenson Taylor, Sr., August 30, 1946 - October 8, 2003

Dreaming to NPR

I am dressed up, excited.
A class trip to Barack’s and Michelle’s house
to watch the stars on the south lawn.
I walk through the market
searching for…a gift? A snack?
A rutabaga and strange fruit
weigh down my basket.

I ask a foreign lady where to pay.
Her detainee bracelet blinks green
then turns red when we go to the register.
I hold a cup in my left hand,
something clamped to my side.
I stand in line…waiting to pay?
Waiting for fried apples? Waiting for…

A train arrives at the platform.
A young man walks to the front,
shows the conductor his comic book, then boards.
I pull out the comic book tucked under my arm
and do the same. A sea of excited faces
looks back at me. They are all Black.
I overhear some students say
the school board voted out diversity.

I walk in the dark rain, my head down.
That cute boy from school bounds across the street,
lifts my chin with his finger.
We won the Nobel Prize!
He breaks out in song,
“I Love a Rainy Night” and I join in.

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The NPR stories that must have influenced this dream:
Astronomy Night on the White House Lawn
Immigration Detention
Voters Reject Wake Schools Diversity Policy
Nobel Prize for Chemistry
Jane Lynch from "Glee"

I Like...But I Never

I like that girl on the bus, but I never get a chance to talk to her. It's like fate is trying to warn me–she snores, has unresolved daddy issues, is batting for the other team. I could deal with all of those things, except maybe the batting for the other team part. But then again my sister, Paula does too, so I could introduce them. But I don't think she does, or rather, Paula doesn't think so. I had been talking about the mystery girl on the bus so much, Paula drove me to the stop in the morning to see if this girl warranted being the object of my obsession. It didn't take Paula 15 seconds to declare my girl was not part of "the family".

"She does seem–how can I say this nicely–out of your league, Jeff."

I must have had that deer in headlights look Paula says I give her when I don't quite catch her meaning because she continued.

"Let me give you an example. You like wine, right Jeff?"

"Sure I do."

"Well, she's more of a Cava and you're more like a two-buck Chuck."

I sat silent for a moment trying to absorb the meaning in the metaphor–and then I got it!

"So you're saying we both like wine, but our tastes might be different, and I might like a wine she does not like and vice versa, but if that's true, at least we have our interest in wine in common and can use that to build a successful relationship."

Paula smiled weakly, patted my shoulder. "Jeff, the bus is here. You'd better go before you miss your chance."

Highway

It's I-40 or just 40.
No one says "the 40"
'round these parts.
His twang snaps me back–
east of the Mississippi,
south of the Mason-Dixon,
away from the Pacific Coast–
toward my home
where the sun rises.

Excuse Me

Can I get my heart back?

I need to give it to somebody else.

I thought I had taken it with me

along with the other things

I tried to salvage –

pride,

dignity,

self-worth –

I barely made it out

with those things intact.

Do you have some crazy glue?

You’d think such a delicate organ

would come with instructions:

“In case of heartbreak –

cry,

breathe,

wait,

heal.

Actual duration may vary –

A lot!”

Can you believe I’m doing this again?

You must think I’m crazy.

I do too, but not doing it would mean

giving in to the

fear,

anger,

self-pity,

misery,

and prove you right

when we both know how wrong

you were.

Answer: MFA in Creative Writing

Question: Why hasn't there been a new post on Pamela R.A.W. since July 29th?

I had a marvelous experience at the North Carolina's Writer's Network 2009 Summer Squire Residency at Warren Wilson College. The poetry workshop was taught by Cathy Smith Bowers, who also teaches at Queens University in Charlotte in their low-residency MFA program in Creative Writing. What is a "low-residency MFA program", you ask? That's the same question I had. Truth be told, Joan McLean asked the question. I merely listened to Cathy's explanation – 7 to 10 days of intense seminars and workshops on campus each semester and spending the rest of the semester completing assignments at home. Two years of this type of program seemed doable, so I decided to apply.

I've spent the first two weeks of August figuring out which poems I wanted to submit with my application packet; not all of them were edited to my satisfaction, but my fearless workshop leader may help me out when she gives me her feedback this week. This past week, I found some online resources to help understand how to critically analyze a poem, then spent the better part of today (almost 7 hours to be exact) writing a critical essay on "Blond" by Natasha Trethewey in the book, Native Guard. The poem tells the story behind a photograph taken of the author as a young child excited about the near life-size ballerina doll and matching ballerina outfit–complete with blond wig–she received as a Christmas present. I had 3 pages single-space worth to say about that poem; now I'll have to cut it down to 3-4 pages double-spaced. The last major portion of the application packet is the personal essay, which basically answers the question, "Why the heck do you want to do this?" (and which I have asked myself repeatedly while writing the critical essay).

In short, getting an MFA in Creative Writing just feels right. One of my New Year's Resolutions was to work on my craft, take my writing and myself as a writer more seriously. When I learned about low residency MFA programs it was as if the path to that goal suddenly appeared before me, like that scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade where Indy sprinkles some dust and uncovers a bridge that will get him across a deep cavern to the Holy Grail. Now that the path has materialized, I have to walk across it.

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Pam's Fab 5
Converse College (Spartanburg, SC)
Queens University of Charlotte (Charlotte, NC)
Spalding University (Louisville, KY)
Vermont College of Fine Arts (Montpelier, VT)
Warren Wilson College (Swannanoa, NC)

Check out " the Guide" from Association of Writers and Writing Programs for a complete list of MFA Programs in Creative Writing.