have an oil spill of hair, eyes blacker than night, but you,

you are not like me


you with all your mattress springs for locks, rusted brown combed back

you with your mahogany irises


and if I could I would give you my calluses
something to help you hold on

I would give you my hips, though you dance pretty good for a white kid, you might need a little more wiggle room to get by on in the city

I've got a quick tongue, not made of sugar like yours, or of marmalade or melodies but you can borrow it if you need it

and maybe one day you'll leave here and never look back
maybe you'll stay away from all suburbs or small towns that remind you of this one

I hope that even once your name is incandescent, you will still remember how it was at sixteen
I hope that you do not forget that you were not alone
I hope that even after the spotlight finds you, you will be kind to those that remind you of people like me and places like this