over scrambled eggs and toast at 4am
i have realized suddenly
that i miss the red dirt of africa
in my hair
making my eyes scratch
and my skin
gritty.
and that i miss
marvin
...*******.
if that little boy
isn't ok
then nothing
is
marvin's my baby. he's one of the street kids in kivulu slums. last i knew someone was taking care of him....lord, keep him safe. he hugged me so tight when i left uncle robert's house. he's only eight.