feelin’ some type of way

Staten Island Ferry, 2016.

been a minute since I spent a night dry- that is:
spent sprawling on sweat drenched white sheets
by myself, no bottle but a song instead.

smooth that new school crooner on that old school wound.
today I sang the Blue Ridge song, heard “damn,
sounds romantic.” damn, been a minute

since I played that role- that is: romantic like, 
friends say I weep 40’s film starlet style. romantic like I 
take ’em back again. like I fall prostrate before lady

liberty, show me how you weather that wind & water.
where’d you get that spine? tonight I found my crown again:
my renegade heart & sober sweat & a dope song.

they need a polish up, a fresh buzzcut, romance
born fresh and gasping again- I sold my ride and I keep
all my old songs in rotation. I get tired of singin’

honey you don’t need those pills // the drizzle down
on bushwick after splitting stone fruit // blue winter ocean
// “i wrote this poem for you a while ago” //

I slur a come-on echo round the east side: you tryna love
a girl with birds swarming her throat, lips slick & slipping
smoke? buy my drink, i’ll hit you with some shit I wrote.

damn, been a minute since I played this role- that is:
stayin’ up too late spittin’ poems to a screen, building
steel support beams up the center of my spine, 
draped all in summer white on some botticelli vibes,
I quit singin for a minute but we don’t talk about that time.
I quit hips swingin for a minute but I’m back on my grind.

After “Seigfried” by Frank Ocean.

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