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

to look

                       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.