-September 15, 1963 / from here to Birmingham-

the beat-up turquoise and white

1957 Chevrolet was six years old

when four madmen drove it to a red-brick church

in the dead of a Saturday night.

the turquoise and white '57 Chevy drove

the dynamite there, too.

turquoise and white was a highly sought-after

color combination for the ’57 Chevy.

my friend Henry Rossi's father had one

telling everyone in the neighborhood
with a high dosage of pride:

“last one off the showroom-floor”

as if the acquisition was ordained by General Motors.

Henry’s father was a jazz musician, a saxophone player,
playing the nightclubs in New Bedford and Newport,

and in fact, albeit briefly, I took saxophone lessens

from him on Sunday afternoons after morning mass. 

the dynamite was tucked beneath

the stairway of the 16th Street Baptist Church,

the sticks, taped tightly together with a crude timing device.

the blast ripped through the basement in the heat of a Sunday morning,

killing four young girls at their bible studies.

I remember Henry’s father
would take me, Henry and his little brother, Louis

to “Sambo’s Diner” on Pleasant Street after my sax lessons.

“Sambo’s”——

as in the children's book: “Little Black Sambo”

of which I had a copy at home, as did Henry and Louis,
as did just about every kid in the neighborhood.

I looked forward to being driven to “Sambo’s” by Mr. Rossi,

for "Breakfast 24 hours" on Sunday afternoons

after morning mass and my saxophone lessons,

along with his sons, my early friends in a sleek,
1957 Chevrolet, brand-new, turquoise and white,
last one off the showroom floor.