Look at the homie,
even when in a gang
he came home to crack Nietzsche, Beyond
Good and Evil, Will
to Power. Believing everybody dies at twenty-four,
not seeing a future in pump-faking, even then.
You ever try to read philosophy high?
Gone to the hole and hoped for the foul,
wished only to finish.
After rolling joints in two Zig-Zags,
after an hour of starching pants,
he transferred trollies and buses.
He’s going places.
Look at homie, trying to fix himself. Thinks,
out of repetition comes variation.
It takes a lot of effort
like you’re not trying.
It should be an air ball
to go to college
at twenty-one, the father of two, just
to play basketball. When
most folks say they want to change the world
they mean their own.