Mama Lockdown

The battle of between D-town and the Hills had been fierce. City folk and suburbanites fought over what was left after the Burn of '44. If the polticians had been treacherous before, what each side's army did to each other was worse. I'm not talking bodies. The Burn took care of that, I'm talking wasting what few resources we collectively were depended on: the freakin' land, metals and textiles.

In the end neither side ended up any better off: both sides lacked enough resources and we remained co-dependent whether we liked it or not. Now the city folk actually had the upper-hand. You know the joke, poor folks know how to make do. So after the Burn, those in the epicenter got busy plotting out community gardens, establishing neighborhood turfts and making pacts with micro gangs for protection.

And while the burbs were slow on the uptake they weren't without their wits. The ex Suits knew when it was crunch time, you had to act on your feet, be efficient. Instead of looking to optimize profits, they pooled intellectual property. City and Burbs bartered their best assets. Necessity will make bedfellows out of estranged partners.

Now this is Auntie's sanitized version. Auntie says if folks had been reasonable and sane, we wouldn't have had the Burn to begin with it. Besides, she says no sense in wasting more time than necessary to explain what has happened. Auntie has no time for blame or tears. She says neither will feed us nor protect us.

My name is Tyemba, I'm eleven, and I live with my Auntie, Mama Lockdown. Auntie is no joke. She thinks she's cool and don't get me wrong, she is but she's my Auntie. Even with her cool outfit and superpowers and all, she's still the woman who wiped my butt as a baby. Know what I mean?

Anyway, gotta go. Auntie sent me on an errand, and if I'm not back when she think I should be back she won't have to use no super power to make my butt hurt. I'll holla at you later. Peace.

p.s. Nobody and I mean nobody calls her Auntie but me. Last thing you want to do is piss off my aunt. So if you meet her, show mad respect. It's Mama Lockdown to you.

linked up with poetry jam: I entered a superhero contest once. We created the figure you see. Later I wrote the story with my nephew in mind. Join us.