You had dreams / of sticky hot summer days that were cool sprayed until the fire hydrants die, / while brisk winter nights were warmed by radiators stuck on walls like flies.

Each week, Mom wrote a scene about her childhood, many of the stories she had told me and some I hadn’t heard before. After the course had ended, she printed copies of her work and proudly showed them to my sister and me. Then she tucked the writing away.

They are not a flagrant generalization. They are the deranged reflection of / our centuries long struggle.

My culture started a revolution that traveled across the world / My culture brought the world together

She high-steps it in front of stores she cannot easily enter, but she is happy because she has fallen for a young man who likes to drive fast. One day my father will go too fast.

why when I gaze at your / flawless ebony skin / against starched white collar / I visualize unwavering courage

the divisions we now feel through race were only divisions / of class, education, this church from that church, / the churched from the unchurched—

When we got home, / my mom schooled me on the word and its history, / how it caused our ancestors’ misery, / it was no longer a mystery.

I'm using the title/phrase to denote the culture shock I am experiencing while I live here, and all the things nobody ever told me. To be honest, maybe I knew some things, but there is no knowledge like living it.