An Occurrence in Eastridge

Maegan Ramirez
An Occurrence in Eastridge
The bronzed man
stands on his lawn
in his immaculate cardigan
and frowns when I say,
“Good morning, Mr. Giner.”
“It’s G-EYE-ner.”

The leather-faced white lady
in fake pearls and pink velour
jogging suit pat-dries the sweat
from her Chanel-scented brow
before shouting across the street,
“Hey Mr. G-EYE-ner,
if you mow my lawn, I’ve got
a ten dollar bill
with your name on it.”