53 cents
i found in a dusty corner
once
i found underneath a sock
a spider dead
smothered
i found on top a box
an old report card
hiding
i found next to a shoe
some old cracked photos
curling
i found behind the vent
a wooden toy
dry rotting
i found between dresses
this boogeyman
cowering
&
myself
concealed

i can see the train
running on her tracks
from here
can you see it?

it’s saying
weave me, weave me, weave me, weave me.

you are right to not believe

for you
the silent cries
that carry into the night
do not existence the volume
of your tv is adjusted
& everything becomes
a mute apparition
illuminated
but not heard.

you are right not to believe

for you
the sounds of gunshots
are the popping of fire crackers
after holiday barbecues
& the screams
come from parades of people
cajoling down side streets.

you are right not to believe

for you
the only hanging you know
exists in laundry whites
bleached towels are a must
for wiping hands
clean
& unstained
from the bloodied bodies
of loved ones.

you are right not to believe

for you
the world doesn't exist
beyond these bordered white picket fences
& bakes sales
until your mexican comes
to clean

suburbia
when will you realize
the war to be fought
runs beyond 5’o clock rush hour
& taking away your son’s ps4?

the brownness of my skin
should not be the basis
for the deafness in your ears
to ignore the shouts
for you to move

take action

the brownness of my skin
should not be the basis
for the blindness in your eyes
to ignore the ignorance
for you to see

take action

the brownness of my skin
should not be the basis
for the blandness of your tongue
to refuse the opportunities
for you to taste

take action
for
the color of the hands
passing the plate
shouldn't matter
when you’re starving
for change.

things that happen in my world
don't exist
not in reality
for instance
the absence of racism
exists
not in some, but all stores
where i have enough credit
to try what i want
to buy what i want
without being patrolled

i've never been to prison

i mean my world
is a place where i can be
myself
and the absence of prejudice
exists
not in some
but in all cultures
where i don't have to ride
the white picket fence by day
and jump into
the black skin of my life at night
just to get by

i'm tired of being two toned

in my world
things are different
and
the absence of comparisons
exist
individuality is recognized
and everything fits
not on some
but on all people
here my size
always remains the same
and my image isn't constantly challenged
by the cutouts of paper doll magazines

i never looked like a model

i really like it in my world
because here
underwear models
really are accessible to me
the plane jane i am
and not some
but all men really like getting
dressed up to take you
somewhere
besides McDonalds for a burger
and a neck-bone in the park
here, in this place
honesty exists
not in some, but in all people
it is inconceivable to lie
a virtue
ingrained at birth

i can't stand backstabbing

you cant say that my world
isn't a pleasant place
here
no one dies
violently
the absence of gunfire
exists and
drive bys of the
boys on the corner slinging slang
overdosed  and full of crazed maddening screams
don't float like an evil spirits
through my window at night
trying to possess me
for garage sale bought tv's
while blue and red sirens
illuminating my moonlit skies

i don't need the extra lights

on the street
where we live
the world that exists
beyond these 4 walls
doesn't dictate me
i am not
plastered
in a mold

my eyes
see beyond the line
of my neighbors back yard
my vision
is not fenced in
by the suburbia
that surrounds me
i can see
where we live now
is a place
where blood is shed
& flows
like armies of rivers
where rocks are shells
of mortar
hidden in the depths of sand
where
my ears hear
beyond my daughters laughter
the cries of a mother
left barren as the drought ridden land
as she stands
holding her last legacy
in her blood soaked hands.

i want to sit in
Buenos Aires
drink coffee
till i am as wired
as the skyline
at midnight

i never sleep anyway

i want to kiss strangers
fake-ly
like they were my friends
i lost somewhere
but recently found

i need new friends

i want to tango
with a white Patagonia
rose
clenched in my teeth
while my clenched *******
rise and fall
to the beat of the waves
in my water bra

i never had lessons anyway

i want Argentina
full of faux marble
dance hall floors,
scuffed shoes, burned beans
and fish markets full of thorny
roses

i need to feel full