Take me back to the days of a Ghanaian sunset.
When hope dwelled above the waters of despair
And I gazed into the eyes of a sinking soul.
Where trust and fear were honest and pure --
Felt in the mountains, cities and fishing boats alike.

I want the hot air, the mango juice dripping down my hand, the dirt kicked up around my shoes, the roosters in the streets, the taxi cab dodgeball games, the eggshell passenger rides, and the shy children singing across from me on the shore. Because I want it all back.

It's the feeling I had when I was there in a wide space so open -- it is a feeling I call free.

the smell of
burnt toast
and
cigarette smoke
greets me
with an acrid embrace
i
drag my
brain dead carcass
up the long flight
of stairs
fifteen minutes late
for class
open the door
to psych
get kicked in the face
rather inharmoniously
by a large, hairy
eyeball
some blue-toothed
*******
is in my seat
i plop down next to
shareef
instead
turn my desk
into a bed

sleep.