Harlem to Brooklyn

while pressed against marigold skin
the plants in the sidewalk cracks develop
purple haze gliding from my mother’s voice
she eats shrimp roti on the bench outside cursing the red and blue
police sirens and car horns
I can feel the air and smell
the exhaust brothas yell from the rooftop
in flatbush the view from my best
friend’s window sweat and dick inside
marlboro reds and cat litter
we’re sexin’ cursin’ pushin’
on the train
ride back home to 1st and 59th st
I can feel my sister’s lips and donuts on my fingertips

avoiding the chicken wings and pork fried rice
I run to the bridge in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden
I arrive panting
to the smell of arroz y habichuelas glide my hand over the brick outside
reminds me of my mother’s bedroom I smile
at the thought of rose water
oxtails and cat fur
skipping through yellow crosswalks towards home cell phones
blink I puff a joint
ash it under gold nikes