I felt like God, even though I must’ve been the palest lady on Vía Argentina. I was one lone gringita standing outside a bar full of red lights and Don Omar music, watching people use the tens and twenties tucked in their fingers for cab fare or a bottle of rum to mix with Coca-Cola. I was just a dirt-broke chick who sprinted out of the States like a scalded rat, hoping I’d never see certain people again . . .
Tag: Tu Mejor Amiga
Featured: Black Interest
- Not for Everyday Use
- What Is Hip-Hop?
- The Gospel According to Cane
- Bronx Biannual: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature
- On the Way Back
- Haiti Noir 2: The Classics
- Dance of the Jakaranda
- HNIC (limited edition signed package)
- Sale Amiri Baraka 3-for-1 Sale!
- New Worlds, Old Ways: Speculative Tales from the Caribbean