His tone very arch, his posture so stiff.
His gait very slow, his eyes dark and mean.
His fists balled up tight, his hat low as if
he is hiding, like in a movie scene.
Hoodie covers his head, headphones on ears.
Rehearsing rap lyrics, poetry too.
He crosses gang towns and silently fears
gun fights and knife fights. He covers his blue.
He makes it across town riding the bus.
He walks in the door and puts down his bags.
He kisses his mom and gives her a hug.
He goes in the yard, burns all of his rags.
Tired of these days confronted with strife.
Dreams of some ways to have another life.