“You’re not a victim,
But neither am I,
Nostalgic for garbage,
Desperate for time,
I could blame it on your mother’s head,
Or the colors that you father wears,
But I know that I was never fair,
You were always fine,
Unsentimental,
Driving around,
Sure of myself,
Sure of it now,
You stand this close to me,
Like the future was suppose to be,
In the eyes of the Grocery,
In the blocks uptown,
I remember,
Remember it well,
But if I forgotten,
Would you tell,
”
