Asphalte - nothing more sinister
than black wicks and
melted British Columbia coniferous'

Beige pavement - sleeping legs,
the hum of traffic, and
grey-toned depressions

Chalked up - memories,
scrawled out on blanks,
video tapes, and Air Max 97's

Smoothed by the grace of your thumbs
on my temple -
like a thimble to a sharpened needle
curving about the wandering dark silk.

King West vendours and spinning sugars
left untraced.
Woven into cracks of heated chemicals and gun smoke -
summer is not walking the plank,
only splinters.
Chilled Apothic California reds,
and sweet almond tarts.

I took you for a working fool,
only to find you
a soothing villain.

Hookup culture is a beast I cannot tame.
Drawing at my insecurities
again, picking and gnawing.
Nothing will be left now,
except the empties from the party.

My cellphone rings,
and it feels like nothing.
Pushing buttons and
overdrawn lipstick.
Bite it anyways,
apply the waterproof.

I’m gonna get it tonight.
Catch a feeling or two
Teach a lesson or three,
And for the first time –
Teach you to understand human emotion,
empathy,
and too often the human cry.

I won’t steal your keys,
and make you walk home.
But if you leave me with the Cherry pits,
the bill, or the half-smiles,
you’ll be lucky to leave with your sweater.

I am a terrible girl,
but a great date!

There are more women
unseen.
Doing more work than you'll
ever have to do.
Asking the right questions,
to open fields.
Kissing glass ceilings for
spots at table ends.

Despite my skins translucency,
I am seen more.
In T.V., Magazines, Movies.
If Black women are "loud",
it's only because you're not listening.

Suicide by pesticide,
Guns to police.
Sold to be a wife,
Don't put up a fight.
Getting your nails done,
by a stereotype,
you look at your T.V.s.

To see you,
the same consumable ****.

The state of the consumer,
as long as your
pretty,
impartial,
straight,
able,
classed,
and most of all,

white.

Technology raised me, a single truth,
A distant voice calls a subconscious blues?
Need not give lessons, need not to give proof.

My Children’s children Google from a roof,
Built into our blood, a gift, or a bruise?
Technology raised me, a single truth.

A full set of pearls, yet somehow a spoof,
Was it ever something that we could choose?
Need not give lessons, it’s merely abstruse.

Will the children read underneath a spruce,
Their youth affected by iPad’s in use?
Technology raised me, a single truth.

Is it hidden just like a chip in your tooth,
We turn to our computers, say our “I do’s”?
Need not give lessons, we’re unwashed, uncouth.

The T.V. confusing, full of untruth.
Dreams of a world, can I get out of this blues?
Need not give lessons, need not give proof,
Technology raised me, a single truth.

We lay in it. A king?
A queen? The daffodils,
a side table. Etching white lines
on your dark skin. Cashmere.
Clouds are pillows. Moss is fabric softener.
I am tumbling out of my - drawers
are thick blades of grass.
You think trees are equations.
Masterful and wise. I think they are god,
pure and solved. When I was born,
they planted me firmly. You plant a kiss,
the wind brushes, my cheeks are red -
You smell like apple crisp.

I'll always remember summer,
from the comfort of my winter solstice.