[ART] Red Line

There were moments when Boston almost managed to seep into him. Not in places like Faneuil Hall — naturally named after a slaver, even here — but in the long rides out to Dorchester, from which the Wahlbergs of the world have long fled, leaving behind Great Migrators and half of the Caribbean. But, as always, there was a great hatred in Erik, resenting that he needed to go underground to find a more real place, that the very trains he rode needed to carry him clear from one side of the city to the other, out of necessity, the failure of bussing, the failure of integration, the failure of the Silver Line, the countdown until white people decide they want the Southside back, actually, but by then, Erik is going to make damn sure it ain't going to be easy for them.