YOU AIN’T HEAR IT FROM ME..
a communal activity.
a judge free space.
a guilty pleasure,
a real live, real life, Real Housewives of Melanin being broadcasted
in a living room, a group text, a 3 way phone call,
in the corner of the club, under a streetlight near an afterhours.
a muffled laugh, a sneer, a yelp in disbelief. a whisper.
a kettle brewing. it’s hot tea…a shade of reality that we bask in,
the light is lackin’ and we like it. at least a little bit.
it’s with my co-workers, my friends, my sisters, my bitches.
it’s just gossiping.