These streets, they’re calling me;
They follow me
Everywhere. It’s in the air.
Can’t grow for shrinking;
Pounding the pavement
As a hymn of bereavement.
Deal to steal
a little of the life I’m not feeling.
Transparency and currency don’t mix.
Can’t fix me if I break you first.
Do your worst; can’t feel the hurt
I’m a soldier in the trenches,
Barricades made of park benches
For back-alley battles. There is no
Surrender, ’cause I can’t just retreat. I
Dance to the beat of lock, load,
There is no DMZ for me.
-Dedicated to the memory of Keenan Hubert (1990-2011)