Your lips

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.