they want to save the snow leopards

selling lemonade

cars stop, smiles and exchanges occur, habitual customs, they walk away quietly dumping uncovered sugar contents in street gutters before careening suburban corners without a seatbelt

money fills the jar, to keep alive childhood rituals, symbols that innocence existence on street corners

in white neighborhoods

she wants to go to disneyland

selling water below one bedroom paranoia, people walk-by, needing sustenance, they acquiesce, money hits her palm, fear-threatened people make phone calls to police

for black children

i’m neither, them or they

i’ve been told i shouldn’t speak this way, given my experience

i can pretend i’ve been ostracized, falsely accused, driven away, left raising money for myself, not for far away fur creatures

disneyland, it’s better than lunch

fortune finds us all, believing it’s monetary, the start of our fall

relatable situations, empathy

we’re not as far apart as any of us want

we’re all selling something on street corners, in backseat of uber lyfts, alone in the car-pool lane

our desire to connect without commitment, ensures we all know our place

it’s real

that sensation that starts at the fingers of a forgotten friend and finds its way through you, holding hands wishing the sway would turn to a grasp and lead to rolling in freshly watered grass, overcoming discomfort in the name of passion, spontaneity

finding buttons and zippers to undo and divide, blissfully panting, newfound pride found in rhythmic pulses leading to shouts of freedom, letting go of every inhibition, primal yelps breaking neighborhood night silence in a park down the street from where our parents lived

and once loved

they had fake smiles and handshakes, birthday parties and shared steaks sizzling on wedding present grills pouring friday night puffs of community into styrofoam streets

neighbor coveted neighbor coveted neighbor, swapping stares as sundresses flipped up while planting perennials along front lawn borders, a tasteful fence

fears were multiplied when we started to subdivide and ran away from what made us great

what’s real?

the feel of coming back to plastic childhood haunted backyards, and parading in twenty year old libido with the next door pigtails you always wanted

i can be an asshole

power playing, guilt laying, asshole

underneath intentions i grasp for attention, working the math

this might shock most of you

you’re probably right

yet, i know my thoughts, the ones where i stand upright casting line after line into shallow waters working to pull you to shore

i didn’t say i was an asshole

i said, i can be

i can be a lot of things

i can be self-loathing, nothing stacking up to the cups everyone else seems to know how to fill

i can be charming, the right words colliding into endearment

i can be genuine, listening with truth, wrestling with vulnerability

i can be manic, organized pieces finding their home simultaneously, multi-task

i can be sad, tears

i can be shy, hiding

there’s more, dimensions, corners to peek in, both you and i

acknowledgement, a decision to embrace our totality

i can be an asshole

depends on how hard you look

waiting, compromised time frames

caught between preconceived scenarios of what the night should pursue, and where we want to go

they’ll play for us

whether we stand or sit

the stage is lit, previously independent

thoughts troubled, now projected

seeking an understanding

what’s first? will you open up for me?

develop another sense of how to relate to emotions displaced under false shadows cast by fluorescent lights flooding our ability to capture reality

we’re all finding a way

ripple affect today

is ripple affect tomorrow

is constant borrowing of joy to drowned sorrow in friendship glances assuring me i’m ok

we’ll wait together

waiting for them to start

our paths from there

will disappoint us

if we fail to listen

forgetting we belong