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Cobbs Creek in West Philly. Michael, 57-years-old and college educated, has worked in all sorts of jobs, including as a mechanic and, for many years, in a supermarket. Two years ago, he applied for a janitorial job in South Carolina, but was hired as a first grade art teacher instead. He showed me samples of his graphic design. He said he walked around without fear, "Because the Lord always takes care of me. I believe in my Lord." He did add, "But I do have a little something with me, just in case anything happens." Much of West Philly is no joke. My friend, poet and biker Jerome Robinson, was shot to death not even half a mile from Michael's door. As we talked on his porch, his two daughters walked by, and they seemed exceptionally vibrant and neat, a reflection, I'd think, of their confident, open and resourceful father. When I said I'd email him a copy of this photo, he replied that he had no email address, however.



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