'Worlding' from Juice Inferno, 2016, digital still
Born New York, NY (US), 1984
Look, across the street
We up late.
You’re just gonna throw that away?
All fifty hands up, no
Men marching, saying
I’ve had it, and I don’t want to go to work anymore, don’t Want to, no way, no
The gray light in our kitchen saying
Hell is so last season,
You smelled it burnt too, and I believed you,
While reaching for the Juice
Across the table, into collapsing mud huts or phantoms of Starbucks or old laptops.
Your eyes press backwards,
Thumbprints browning your
Lids, you remember your old block — when you were the local Top,
But here, I go walking, clocking in red clothing,
Here, I’m Smoking Hot.
Once, there was this old guy
Front yard swimming pools! and
Windows 95! and Signs! and Tapestry roadside
Delivery! and I knew him, before he died,
He gave me his walk.
We up so
Late at night, peeling away through slow mountains, pushing white cartons
Too hard by accident.
How angry, though?
Until the flavor barges in.
You old enough to eat mush.
I got ready too quick and was half
Way out the door before you
Checked your phone and saw the
Shop was already crushed.