She says, "Meet me at Saffron but you pay for dinner."
I only go dutch these days until I know the investment isn't a loss.

Deep down south, way past the imaginary boundaries of nation-state they've existed before 1492.  Today they still run for days to see their neighbor.  This gives a whole new definition to friendly.  Imagine Mr. Rogers striding for 48 hours.

I can't.  

My neighbor's son was tied to a chair and set on fire.  
A year later patrol officers were parked outside the house,
standing behind their black and whites, gripping their glocks
as he hollered from the living room he was going to blow his head off
with a shotgun because his girlfriend was evicting him.
He once told me that he used to be a cop and would sleep on duty,
right before passing me a blunt and offering me some fried fish.
His daughter was drinking and then her crying got loud.
She was trying to pace with the rhythm of the blues,
Nina's voice carried the weight.  The sway of the *****
made me talk.  My drawl seeking to comfort the tension in the air.
White boy can't make black girl proud.
Best put it to rest for another day.
When she whispered in my ear she had a kid and her boyfriend didn't show I knew I was too far gone.  The night became a blur.  The next morning my face was buried deep between her thighs.  My back arching again, a quick culmination.  There were sirens everywhere.  She cooked me stew and walked me home.

We ate red beets with garlic roasted in olive oil and anise.
We ate onions sauteed in olive oil, mustard, and honey.
We ate green leaves with grapes, tomatoes, onions, and feta cheese.
We drank wine.
We drank water.
We talked social justice.
We talked poverty.
We talked blackness.
We talked education.
We talked about the years, that of which was left behind.
Trials I used to roam out west before I came back to the nest.

He said, "But, that is behind you?
I am still under the illusion doors don't close.
So plainly without a doubt they do.
"The debt will go away, do what makes you happy."

Why resist?

This is the necessary transition.

We are like neutered mutts,
drowsily as we sate on.
100 years of 24 frames per second
left too many of us wondering about the future
while reflecting on a past
never engaged in the present
always being.

The radio is concerned,
a voice drones on
flies over our head
and broadcasts into the living room.

This energy is a wave, follow the sin
Your body already knows how to covert the pressure
into electricity for your receptors.

Later, we stand at the altar
of boys with guitars
of boys with mics
The aux cable beheads his neck
we pardoned a sea of excuses
The F/A-18 drops the mic.

Women salivate the crowd.
That other gentile touch.
Throw a burka on that *****
Magazine dictate should we be?
Clip up pandora,
the liquid streams on.

There was never a box.
You were just born with fingers and toes
to touch ears to hear eyes to see a brain
to think to receive a nose
to breath a mouth to kiss and say,

"There is disappointment everywhere but still I love."