I grew up in the Bronx, rough neighborhood.
Times were tough, my mom didn't know what to do.
She worked long nights, all week as I struggled in school.
I failed every class, didn't make it too far.
Where'd I end up?
Strippin' at some bar.
Every night men would look and stare.
I used my body for money, but nobody cared.
Where'd it get me?
What good did it do?
But through all of my struggles, I made it out on top.
I've made it, I've succeeded, I rose up from there.
Now I'm a rapper, come on.
Go ahead and stare.

I tried to be Insta-famous
Insecurities celebrated
Half naked, for the attention
High on pillies, money, vacation
With every notification
Filling the void behind my left breast
I worked for it
With body goals like this

Rock solid abs
Icon: fire and 100%
A whole snack
A girl that don't crack

Strip on that pic
Like Cardi B on that pole
Dancing around men
With the only goal of getting rich

Hurt them
Slight curl at the corner of my pillow lips
Ruin them
Feed the feed with self-admiration

It was the meds
or was it?

Inner ego
Remain incognito
Only every other photo
Only then you can show
How you could work that camera phone

You scroll through your social media where people have sworn not to show what they feel like so their 'profiles' can be aesthetic to look at.
You look at dog videos and swear not to think about your dead dog with whom you never got to cuddle one last time.
You walk through streets you've never been to hoping that it'll lead to a story.
You kiss boys and girls you don't really like and pretend you're waiting for the three-days-later call. You constantly listen to Cardi B because you can't take another Bon Iver song.
You fake a smile, an ******, a brave face.
You look at where you're staying and pretend not to long for that one little park in Paris where  you could spend your entire life.
You unblock the ones you lost and feel a fleeting sense of comfort in knowing that they're not happy either and block them again, to feel 'powerful'.
You look back at your journey and sigh because you haven't done enough. You curl into your uncomfortable bed.


And then you realise you're not done.


You realise your journey is just starting. There's so much left for you to say and do and teach and feel. You realise that the best part about yourself is that you're hopeful, despite it all. You realise that despite all the bad that has gotten to you, there's still good, and you can create it. You realise that you've places to go and people to fall for. You've learnt to become your own teacher and your own pupil. You realise that the sky is not the limit for you. You think people calling themselves a work in progress is a cliché, but you know you're one yourself. You're not magnificent. But you will be.


So you light up a cheap cigarette and play the Bon Iver song. And you wait.

IN THE AFTER-TIME

" Alice thought she
had never seen such

a curious croquet
ground in all her life; "

It was somewheres near
Roswell

18 something and something
there or there...abouts

& Billy the Kid &
the boys have just

...paused:

in their croquet
for a tintype photo.

Billy's the guy
in the cardigan sweater.

Him & his gang
( the Regulators )

are posing like
they were a prototype

for
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

or the band
THE BAND.

Pure Americana.

Billy the cardi-cowboy and
his gang of croquet playing outlaws...

Not exactly how
one would have  somehow

imagined them
. . .passing the time.

One of the outlaw...eh...gentlemen

points out that
Billy

" . . .the Kid has spooned
his shot!"

A ricochet of tobacco coloured
spittle hits a spittoon.

Silence congeals
about the accusation.

Now, whether Billy has
merely pushed the ball

silently through rather than
soundly hit it

is:
neither here nor there.

A cold revolver
clicks &

"I says I hit it...I hit it
get it?"

The other gentleman outlaw
begs to agree.

"Ok, Billy boy...keep yer
cardi on!"

And so, we leave them
there

in the croquet craze of
1878.

Time like a yellow ball
hit through hoop after

hoop until: it arrives
at this

present...NOW!

And a photo found in a store
for a dollar or a few dollars more

repays the expense
by morphing into

the 5 million dollar
photo.

But I hit the ball
back through hoop after

hoop after hoop

until it arrives back
at Billy's boot.

And a voice cries:
"Ok, kid...play!"

Summer heat, cool relief

Clucking sounds, juice dripping down

Sticky dirt, no more thirst


Put the wrapper in the bin, wipe the sticky off your skin

Merry walking down the beach, paddling back in the foamy sea


Chilly wind, sun going down

Time to get a cardi on

To the car, set off home

Lovely soak, wash off sticky and foam!

Nothing is more chilled
than slanted sunrays through pines
trembling with want

Nor nothing worse than
the young cardi’nals trilling
out to the white trees

Voices unfalt’ring
answered only by echoes
of forgotten spring

Cold, thick powder snow
blithely reminds us of the
small, white spring hen eggs

that, forever lost,
cracked among the ****-strewn straw,
oozing into earth—

and I think of you,
whispering back to the birds,
just as lost as they

waiting for pre-spring
dew to unfreeze from the grass
that you may lap it

with painful blue eyes
like black-stripped and impish jays,
looking down on all.

My pose is gathered this Saturday morning because I made a pancake and bacon breakfast. We're listening to a Britney Spears song, off one of Leong’s playlists. “I remember when I was about 8,” I say, “I was drawing and singing a Brittney song and I got to the line - “I make no apologies, I’m into phonography,”” and my mom sharply says, “Don’t say that!” And I’m left trying to figure out what I said.”

“People are harsh with her, but Britney is timeless,” Leong says.

“Everyone at Yale fancies themselves a music critic,” Lisa says. There are numerous vocal agreements. “I’m like, “Ok, Pop-off then queen, go complicated,” but in my opinion, you need to have fun with music - that’s the main purpose - just to have fun.”

“That’s like the difference between Cardi B and Niki (Minaj). You can just stroll a Cardi B song, you don’t have to interpret,” Anna adds, “but with Nicki I feel I have to listen to see the point.”

Lisa, surfing on her iPad asks, “Did you guys see that Jojo Seawall wasn’t invited to the kid’s choice awards - because she came out as lesbian?”

Sophy says, “Nickelodeon’s been trying to seem MORE accepting, working in more black artists.”

“Yeah, but they’re fake.” Anna pronounces. Everyone nods agreement.

“He hasn’t called all WEEK,” Sophy moans, holding her iPhone up to her ear like she expected to hear ticking, “I made a ghost of him,” she says, flopping the phone on the couch.

“Should I call the Po-po?” Anna asks, distracted as she searches the kitchen cupboard to be sure the pancakes were gluten free.

“I had a dream,” Lisa begins, “I was a child in a family I don’t know. We were criminals. We stole a car and robbed a store. My dream mom ran the operation. And wouldn’t let me watch TV until I emptied the loot out of the car. Then the police arrived, we saw the flashing red and blue lights through closed venetian blinds, then there was a banging on the door, in the dream, that woke me up.”

“That’s way off track but It’s fine, so fine, I see how it is.” Sophy said, “I’m bleak and no one CARES.”

“Is love something you find, or something you believe?” I ask no one in particular.

“That’s a coffee-cup inscription.” Anna pronounces.

“Aaggh,” Leong says, “An email from my professor - it’s TLTR.” We think it's a policy that professors at Yale have to send incredibly long emails - almost too long to read (TLTR).

There’re only three weeks left of our freshman year, so emails are flying and everyone’s trying to nail things down for a smooth ending.

You told me it was over like this horrible hangover
I got heart full of pride
Playing the games like I’m supposed to be one of these lames
Enough with the gun smoke, don’t crack like this broken yolk
Folk in this plate before it’s too late
Learn to stand tall not to crawl
➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖
No baby girl, no baby girl now you don’t have to call
Cause’ these feelings are showing like your actions
Pretending you don’t need me but you do
Find another man in your world
And feel cold girl, ice coffee
You feeling cramps in your stomach
Call me when the break is over 1-0-0
This ain’t no emergency
Cause this right here is a sense of urgency
That ring was a promise not a I DO
You acting things are good suddenly
I’m a good man, watch me take a stan
Here’s my loyalty, bet that on my speed dial
➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖
You used to be stuck on my mind
On my DM’s all the time, yeah
Marriage was something but nothing
Like he did you wrong when like the time he didn’t have for you
You know it went through your head, I'm only arrogant when something not right
I just love to know if you fix the time with me instead
Now you all caught up in the past , yeah
You all thought  up and you done let the feelings hurt you, yeah
Im fed up with cops on me and our arguments
Moved on and met me, wanna be on your side
Slide through quick, I just miss the old thing we had, baby
That’s all I want
-Tate

Exercise like Billy Blanks
Then punch it like Anthony Joshua
Meander like Lionel Messi
Drive it like Chrisriano Ronaldo
Play around like Neymar da Silver Santos
Swim a d swim like Michael Phelps
Whatever you do?
Never loose your mojo like Zlatan Ibrahimovic
Eyes on the ball like Serena Williams
Hit it hard like Rafael Nadal
Or do you prefer Tiger woods?
Until you hear her sing like Beyonce Giselle Knowles
Twerk like Cardi B
Don't stop cruising like Michael Shumacher
Except you are in a hurry to meet your ancestors
No need for aphrodisiacs
When you have natural smoothies
Above is how to keep her
Repeat these lines over again
And she'll love you forever

Skinny jeans, black cardi
Iphone 8 with that cracked screen
Eyebags from assignments overdue
Longing for a natural view
Outside the screens and books too
I need to ask "How do you do?"