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Rhythm The clomping feet of the Samoan drag queens pound out a rhythm and my head rolls to the beat, cheap perfume overly used attacks the air, a feral cat in heat. The sweet wind whips away their odiferous body spray and the slamming of a door ends their drumming tirade, the sweet air and noiseless city surround me, wrap me in warm love and bright glow. The upper echelon of Ghetto housing encircles my drab brown building, a shrieking baby cries, screaming “Mama, Mama,” all I can think is ‘Shut that kid up’ But what I really mean is ‘I hate delinquent parents’ someone’s passed out on their car horn it blares and blares waking my roommate from weed-coated slumber, his face, sleep-dumb with and expression that’s saying ‘whafuck?’ I don’t live near the beach and I have yet to see a girl in a coconut bra I haven’t met a Kahuna and I can’t say I’ve caught a wave and sat on top of the world, the only naked women I’ve seen have been in strip clubs where money replaces charm and eloquence I’m poverty stricken now in charm and money. Zipping cars zoom by on my asphalt glory road that separates me from my hilltop education jay walking is illegal here even in the cross walks, I do it anyway I can’t get Boston out of me, I don’t know if I really want to let this Hawaii in, its not the same place the Brady’s and the Tanner Family came to. It rains for only 5 minutes even though the darkest clouds to ever form huddle around the mountain the thunder rumbles and I prepare for more rain but what I get is about 2000 collective pounds of the queens descending from their third floor hive, I’m hung over enough to actually hear the building creak and see the stairwell sway, ‘hi’ they say as I nod my head listening as they rip me up in their own language, I know. |