I tasted iron on my tongue as I leaned over and placed my mouth on the edge of that old red wagon. It is one of my earliest memories. The red wagon with the cracked tires and rust stains around the bolts. The faded red paint the color of old ketchup incised with scratches and child scribbling. I pulled that wagon around the back yard and can still feel the warm metal handle in my palm. Days were always sunny and the wagon stayed out in the middle of the yard. It wobbled slightly but moved quickly and took up speed down the hill on Marietta. I remember heading out on the side walk with it flipping the handle back and steering it while sitting inside, always running the risk of flipping over before I hit the bottom of 7th and Marietta.

October, 2002

For more information regarding the Boyle Heights residency contact Nona Chiang.

Updated: 1/8/03