Look like something I could float on
And when u laugh
That dimple winks at me
As if it knows I’m waiting for it
And if I’m close enough
I can hear your heartbeat
A rhythmic melody
A Smooth and consistent lullaby.
And your hands
Textured and thoughtful
Creeping up my thigh
Just enough to get warm.
I let them stay there long enough
And then I push them to their destination.
So you can explore me in detail
And turn me into a poem.
There’s an apartment on the corner,
Graffiti on the cement
The gate is weak and leaning towards the dead grass.
An eye-roll for those who worry about the beauty of the neighborhood
A mom lives there.
With a contorted heart
She threw herself to the soil
so she can hold hands with her little boy.
She looks from the window.
Small balloons on the sidewalk.
Disney Characters smiling at me.
They don’t belong here.
They float on a string tied around a candle.
A white Jesus with his hands outstretched.
He doesn’t belong here, either.
A black boys picture hidden between the small teddy bears
holding satin hearts.
Every time I drive by I look out the corner of my eye
Trying to ignore it.
Like everyone else.
Like everything else.
I don’t belong here.