baltimore baby bebop

through preemptive actions and a half-truth
i have come to this mountainous land
of inclines and iniquity, to this seedy
expensive “hotel” room full of marlboro smoke and vague bloodstains

to discover amid white sheets and black skin
my quick-jazz smooth-soul blues brotha man
hidden from me by rough blankets
and a hipster sweater–
my dose of dopeness in darkness,
undercover poet man curled around cigarettes and sarcasm

and while i’m huddled in your chair
waiting for you to come home,
i listen to my lullaby john mayer on your laptop
and think: i could groove with you,
i could get hip to you, boy,
you could move me,
so do

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