Black Market

[from BLACK]

BLACK MARKET or On The Corner

I miss Philadelphia thunderstorms

the way they sound and the way they

make you stop and feel

it happening right there

on the corner.

I miss buying dimebags of dro off kids on bikes

on the corner. I miss drinking Four Lokos and malt beverages

on the corner. I miss saying wassup to your granny

on the corner. I miss doing anything and everything

on the corner. I miss talking shit on the stoop just for a

change of scenery. I miss them raw-ass block parties.

The kind with kids playing in busted

fire hydrants and double dutch contests and

gospel music and little girls with hot dogs and mustard on their cheeks

and little boys with braids and Nikes on their feet.

I miss those jawns

on the corner.

Point Breeze steeze

on the corner

I miss that goddamn Vietnamese man who bought coke from the 14

year old boy on house arrest on the corner.

He cooked up crack and Chinese food in his dingy lil

used-to-be white underwear

on my corner. He sold it with expired ice cream products and dented

Arizona Ice-Tea tallboys and Newport looseys at the graffitied bodega

on my corner. The

Black Market

on my corner. The boy we called “Stoop Kid” cuz he couldn’t leave

his stoop, he couldn’t do shit

on the corner

cuz he done fucked up

on the corner

I miss remembering that life is a constant state of loss

on my corner.


Fall 2014

Tell Me How U RLY Feel Tho

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