Used to be inseparable. Just two kids from two cities along campus ground together.
Used to philosophize and riddle and debate as if no issue in our midst couldn’t diffuse.
Used to reflect on our classes together. Mutual friends. Romances. Foreign policy. No end.
Broke down habits. Responses to each other. Prism of our minds. That’s what homies were.
What being alive was.
I remember our deliberations on these grounds together:
Maximum profit by maximum strain,
Watching it unfurl across the world around us in lanes.
Student debt. Police. Prison policy.
Fast food. Oldies. Air in our pockets.
Worn out rooms another night. And yet, the unity.
Except I never would have expected walls to build around us as they did,
Somewhere along the way the strain got the best of us.
Perhaps the best of me,
Perhaps the best of you.
Now memory flutters wailing past Los Angeles,
Slave patrol still hovering.
People still coughing up on the sidewalk
While still more profits margin.
Turning the corner,
A brother hobbling along the street asks if I know
Where he can find a pookie,
“Nah’.”
It’s been ten summers since we first spoke the rage.
Before another ten go by, I hope to find you again
If only to break free from this rift with you.
One between two
J.T.
