Friday, April 21, 2017

yo

there's a certain age
when teens
want to sound like gangsta
rappers,
my nieces and nephews were
all this way.
despite being pasty white
like flour.
it was impossible to have
a conversation
without the word yo
being tossed in for emphasis,
or some strange linguistic
reason.
every other word was a curse.
they all had big speakers
in their cars and wore
thick chains around their
neck. piercings of noses
and tongues were present
at the thanksgiving table.
tattoos.
yo, uncle joe, pass me the gravy,
followed by some hand
sign across their chest.
one's a teacher now, prim
and proper, married with
children, another is in the
navy, a chief, no less.
but a couple are still driving
around the hood,
bobbing their heads to
the music, talking about
how the man is keeping
them down.

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