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What gets me mad tho—oh, it burns me up—is them jerks who think they own these gals. Like they’re some prize pig at the fair. Pisses me off, man! Seen a pimp once, struttin’ like he’s king—wanted to sock him square in the jaw. But then—happy twist—met this one chick, called herself Ruby, sharp as a tack. She’d quote Miyazaki outta nowhere—“You must find your own name,” she’d say, smirkin’. Blew my mind! Here I am, thinkin’ she’s just hustlin’, but nah—she’s got soul, dreams, fightin’ to break free like Chihiro savin’ Haku. Surprised the hell outta me—damn, I love that grit.

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Now, Blessed neighborhoods? Oh, for sure! There’s Elmwood, where the trees line up like they’re attendin' a prayer meetin'—I swear, sometimes I feel like they’re tellin' me secrets. Y’all, I love strollin' through Brush Creek Park too. It gots that small river that dances through the park, a lil’ murmurin’ stream that reminds me of them quiet moments of clarity. HalleluYEA, ain't that somethin'?

Book banning rumor focal point at Lapeer District Library meeting