Bixby Park Tunnel

When I was a boy,   

Nearly seven decades ago, 

I walked two miles 
To the beach 

All by myself. 

I walked down 

Junipero Avenue. 

I rolled my eyes 

Knowing how the locals 

Mispronounce it as 

One a pair oh. 

I’d cross Anaheim Street

And read the Cabart Theater Marquee

Looking for a pair of movies
I’d like to see.

I continued on
Passing by the California Bungalow houses

On my Independent Press Telegram

Paper route.
I’d watched the cars whizzing by

As I’d wait for the light on 7^th Street.

I’d pass Doctor Logan Jackon’s house,

Glad that I didn’t need to get a shot.

I crossed Broadway 

To the Park Pantry restaurant,

And hoped that someday 

I could afford to eat there.

I'd stroll through Bixby Park 

Scanning, Searching, and hunting  

For any friends who might 

Want to play at the beach. 

When there were, 

And when there weren't, 

I'd cross the park 

From one corner 

To the corner 

Of Cherry and Ocean.  

I'd descend the stairs 

Into the Bixby Park tunnel 

That went under  

Ocean Boulevard 

To the beach.  
I always found friends
Some I knew
Some I’d just met.
We'd play at the shore
And play tag with the waves.
Some kids had skim boards

Some had floats.
We’d play all day.

When we got hungry
We pull out the bologna sandwich

That we’d made at home.
Our teeth crunched the sand  

That the wind always,

Always, always blew

Onto our sandwiches.
When it was time to go home
I'd go into the tunnel
And back through the park.
I needed to be home
Well before it got dark.

I am sad 

That the tunnel 

Is no more.  

I suppose 

When children of ten 

Were no longer allowed 

To walk to the beach 

All by themselves, 

They sealed the tunnel, 

And the memories 

And only left a mural  

At the ocean side  

Of the tunnel.  

Peace on Earth

I am grateful for peace on earth.
There is peace on Earth. 
There has always been peace on Earth. 
It starts with me, and you, and anyone. 
I am at peace, right now. 
My house is at peace, right now.
My cul de sac is at peace, right now.
And so it goes.
The sun does not shine on all of Mother Earth "
At the same time.
When we are on the dark side,
We can shine our own light to bring peace on Earth.
When I let someone, who is in a hurry, cut in line,
I bring peace.
When I stop breathe and let it go,
I bring peace.
When I see that there is no "other"
Because we are all earthlings,
I am peace.

When I Was Eight

My eight-year-old face

Smashed

Against the drinking fountain

At Saint Matthews Grammar school

When the bigger boy,

The older boy,

The tall blond white boy,

Shoved me

While I took

A drink of water.

“That’s fountain’s for white kids,”

He yelled and sneered.

“You’re a nigger.
And you can’t drink from there.”
“He ain’t no nigger.”

Another boy said,

“He’s a wetback .”

“He’s a wetback nigger.”

The blond boy said.

“Look at his big fat lips.

I bet he gets haircuts

To hide his curly hair.”

In 1957

I was new

To this nearly all white school,

New to this city,

And new to this state,
That I soon learned to hate.

Lucky for me

I was rescued by Sister Marie,

The school principal.

She called an assembly

Gathered the whole school.
She stood me in front

Of all the white children

And loudly declared,

“Every summer day

You all go out and lay

At the beach

To get a tan

As dark as you can.

You burn your skin.

It turns red and peels.

And you try again.”

Sister Marie

Took hold of me

And pulled up my arm

Exposing my dark tan skin.

“God gave this boy

A natural tan,

Darker than you ,
Darker than me

Ever can.
Do let me catch you

Teasing or hitting him

Or I will call your parents

And expel you from school.”

I thought Sister Marie

Was really cool.

But I was no fool.

I knew the white boys

Would find other ways

To be cruel.