July 4th, 2016

I ran into poetry in the streets of Chicago

My feet ran deep in the streets of your history and your growing up

Sweet secret escapes

Music and Bob Marley

The kind of future I want to grow into

Letting our skin touch in a red room

Your hands holding mine as if to say she’s mine, as if to say I got this, I got you

Keeping patience in mind

Trying to get inside your mind to see what you see through those eyes

Bookstore poetry and protest

Bookstores with an African American Studies sections

Your section of town, your neck of the woods

Surprised by sweet kisses

You took time for me

We had a conversation about life and irony

and money and happiness

I couldn’t help but to think about who I could be with you

And what my hand looks like next to yours, black and white like opposites but opposites like they might attract, like they might be on to something,

like this might be worth working for

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