I follow her on our way home

*excerpt from “Bonkers” by Dizzee Rascal

On my way home
the dusk blurs my eyes
and I see
a strange figure of a girl
that can barely see me so
worried, she turns
she looks over her shoulder
at me, at this black face she doesn’t recognize except
the news tells her to distrust me,
radio tells her “I love sex and violence”*
these nightfall streets are not what she’s used to and for that
worried, she turns
she looks over her shoulder
toward the unknown stranger and she picks up the pace away from me
I keep watching those hips, that ass, those legs and I worry that she’s right to distrust me, us, since
television tells her to distrust me;
she looks over her shoulder at me,
worried she turns and
all that I can think is that
the streets, our clothes, our bodies and colors, are not what she’s used to and for that
I must let her looks go and
leave her be

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