Carol City Dreamer

Confession of A Carol City Dreamer

I want to be in zip code 33056 on THAT NIGHT!

And it don't matter if it's the City of Opa Locka incorporated in 1926 or The City Of Miami Gardens incorporated in 2003, A NEED to be there.

A’s BLESSED to Live in both, still BLESSED to have FAMLEE in both and consider both, MA HOME.

When A first became eligible to vote, my polling station was at North Dade Elementary School, just a few blocks from Ma house. Upon approach what drew me to the polls was not the original intent that Ma Young Ass had left the house with. It was the site of A PURRTY MENZ. Am talking VINTAGE PURRTY. Like only Georgia can make ‘em.

If this Elder was A Cah, He would be one of those Big Body 1950s Chevys parked on Ocean Drive, the only street in South Beach, in front of one of the last remaining Hotels built during the heyday of The Magic City.

(get a copy of Tony Roma with Frank Sinatra starring if you wanna see what South Beach was and used to look like. Then watch 2live crew’s Do-Wa-Diddy-Diddy-Dumb-Diddy-Do video and you can see the crane behind Uncle Luke DAH MAN!’s head tearing down The Art Deco Hotel next to the one he is seated in front of while filming. All them other buildings that get they names dropped by male and female celebutantes, ain’t got no choice wid they new asses but to look as Beautiful as they do. For the entire Southern Portion of The City of Miami Beach is now A Historical preservation site. But anybody, and A do mean me, can stay in one them fucks there. The BIG BODY 1950 CHEVY markers however, is to let all pretenders know, what An Ashanti King said, ‘money don’t make you REGAL.’ So You could answer with your bank balance whenever someone asks your name, all you want, that ain’t gone get you one minute’s stay in An Authentic, Original Art Deco Hotel on Ocean Drive.)

But back to me, checking ma Swatch® watch and seeing its only the middle of the day, the polls gone be open ‘til evening, lemme set awhile and get cozy with SugarPlum. (A call e’ry man, SugarPlum; that way A ‘ont ne’er say the wrong name at the wrong time)

So A lauched into Ma not-ready-for-daycare MACK and let the honey drip out Ma Lips as A said, Good Day Fine Sir and how is You d doing? (excuse me, while A go count a blessing)

POTnah hit me wid, ‘Young Lady, is only right A warn yah, A bin all ‘round Da Dirty. So if You really wanna learn how tah flirt wid A Ole man, A could teach ‘cha.

A got comfortable.

The Essence of Our Elders is The Wisdom of Their Ages that They carry with Them from Their Living which They most generously bequeath unto us, who would but self-respectfully, set down, shut up and listen. Each is A Walking Library Of Congress who operates off a business paradigm called ‘FUCK-A-WILL,’ gifting You Their Wealth while They are still above ground. I do not recall when I made the executive decision to saying thank you to them, for all of them have told me, that there ain’t necessary, why You think God put me here?

So in between Ma MACKOLOGY 101 lesson, VINTAGE DUNK, told me ‘bout his chi’ren. For He only seventy sum’mn and they won’t stop talking ‘bout He need to retire. How he ain;t ne’er took no days off since He first started sharecropping when he could crawl. And as if it wasn’t clear to them, that retirement is for OLD PEOPLE, they gone move Him from Georgia to Dade County.

Nah He Gullah, but since moving to Dade, he done gone Geechie wid it. And happier than all get out, ‘cause he see even da little chi’rens in the street with they football helmets grinding as they sell candy to buy uniforms. So He still Living His Life like regular. And he ‘ont know what them Chi’ren a His talking ‘bout, ‘cause he ain’t ne’er worked on election day since His People got Him, His Full Rights as An American when They walked the longest country mile on earth, from Salem to Montgomery and got Him The Right To VOTE!

So if is even for dog-catcher, he take da day off, come lineup ‘fore da polls open, vote early, then spend the rest of the day greeting all The Other Americans enjoying being American.

Where We was right then, in the place so many of Us shall always refer to by it’s Cute Pet Name, Carol City, was OFFICIALLY in ACCORDANCE with UNITED STATES LAW a locale designated “UNINCORPORATED NORTH DADE COUNTY.”

And even though We had a post office in Carol City on 37th Ave, depending on which employee from the private corporation United States Postal Service brought the mail to your house, if they left you two notices warning you to put OPA LOCKA and not CAROL CITY as your address, if you got a letter so labeled again, they would leave a note in your mailbox telling you, you gotta go all the way down to Ali Baba in Opa Locka to collect your mail from the general delivery window at that post office.

Also, the allotment of education funding dictated locale designated like ours required only 1 public high school per 100,000 residents.

But that day, none of that, or the City of Miami false-god-complex-self-infected over-lords with their jackboots on the necks of most then Dade (Now Miami-Dade) County residents, choosing to squander Americans’ taxpayer transportation funds by building a Metrorail that would take them from their homes near the Dadeland Mall straight to their racetrack in Hialeah, mattered.

Even dough, He had told me that He was gone be there ‘til da poles closed, A still made Him pinky swear that He’d be right there when A came back out, when he said Young Lady, go VOTE. (I am that trifling. A mean here is An Elder, He don’t owe me no money, so he ain’t got no reason to lie to me, but Am making Him put His “X” by bloody-thumb-print on a notarized form.

The main polling station is now The North Dade Regional Library located on 183rd St just off 27th Ave NW. And day before yesterday, Ma Baby Sister, Janelle, who had gone to the flea market, right ‘round there to get some gear for her Husband and Sons called Me on her cell phone to tell me the line had done come out the library, headed west on 183rd street (MIAMI GARDENS DRIVE) and then big swang north going pass the Fire Station and brand new Police Headquarters heading for the Wall market across from Dolphin Stadium. And A’s like, dayum, that shit all the way up on 199.

A reside in a locale named Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. County. And on the left side of the address of county documents like the envelope I got my absentee ballot in is a portrait of Lady Coretta’s SugarPlum.

And like that joyous day when VINTAGE DUNK bequeathed unto me, The Wisdom of His Mack Ages, I am as first registered an independent voter. This is the first election that I have ever voted for a Democran/Republicrat ticket.

Lady Coretta and He SugarPlum are two of them Folks there who walked that long-ass country mile for me and VINTAGE DUNK. So A got a picture of Ma envelope positioned on my ballot showing my first vote for candidates from the ruling political party.

And here is where, the trifling in me done gone exponential. Seattle ain’t done nuttin but be FAMLEE since A got here. Yet after ten years, A still function on Dade County time. Maybe it’s ‘cause of The Cocoon of Wealth A was born and raised in by Elders like VINTAGE DUNK in The Caribbean and then Dade County during ma formative years added to Ma Artiste’ Soul and relish being pampered Cuteness, why I stubbornly, unconsciously refuse to acclimate Ma Self to another time zone.

So today, 10/31/2008 2:30:24 PM, finds me in the middle of inconsolable melancholy ‘cause A cannot afford a ticket to be in The City of Miami Gardens on November 4th, 2008, to set across from The Library and watch Americans be Beautiful.

On the real, ma self invited troubles spring from Ma spoiled ass acting as if ain’t none a that thurr going on here in Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. County.