Sebastian Matthews

Body/Mind … On the Chattanooga Bridge, Chattanooga, TN

There is a parade of bodies thronging the bridge, each body bathed on one side by sun glaze. No one is in a rush. No one on his or her cell. So the body keeps walking, off the bridge and into the city, while the mind takes snapshots inside the massive tombstones of commerce it floats through.

Useless

“I’m just joking,” I say. “I’m the one who’s useless.”

No Trespassing

The wood the young man has delivered is perfectly cut for the pot. The lawns trimmed to fairway length. I hate these kind of places. And, despite myself, I feel at ease in them.

Blind Spot

My first inclination was to shake my head and walk away. But something told me to give him a chance. So I stared a little longer. He didn’t look like a serial killer.

White Men in Trucks

Is it imminent threat sounding in the revved engine? Derision caught in side-view mirror snapshot? Or plain old disdain drumming its fingers on the drivers’ side door?

Fence

At the recent downtown protest two different factions ended up squabbling with one another.

Her Hair

The woman looked into the windows as if shopping. I could have been out with my mother on an afternoon stroll. She stopped. “This!” she pointed at the window of a hair salon. Her face lit up.

Dog Park

A few more back and forths like this and I realize I’m the only White person who will join this Black couple—outsiders twice over—and that the larger group keeps their distance.

Waterpark

Earlier this morning, the shuttles were full of employees; the halls empty. Now we’re in full swing. I wait at the bar for an overpriced beer. The boys have joined the line for the Vortex, egging each other past their cartoon fear.

Living Large

The wind is so persistent up here the seagulls float in place above the tables, wings flapping as if in flight, making little dives at tossed tortilla chips.