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An Old Story Retold Unto Death
I'm younger than I look but big
a food desert will get you large
but not in a good way.
I'm fair for a black boy
but the hoody hides my race
into just a blur of ethnicity.
I could be a kid or a malignant killer.
I am 11 years older
than nothing at all.
I took the bus to school,
got myself into a fight.
Now I am on this street
playing with a gun -
it shoots water.
When the cruiser pulled up
next to me
the muzzle was pointing
waving its way.
A cop was shouting
he seemed scared.
I was just staring.
Now I’m dying
a bullet in my chest
burning another hole
through Chicago.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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