two tone

(Gotti style) Mama’s TV stay low, screensavers hide the sirens Twelfth grade left the block, diploma in the iron Corner boys trade dimes for dimes, scale in the locker School lunch still warm when the bodies drop proper Chain came from Canal, rose gold two-tone Pockets stuffed with blue faces, folded in a phone Rocks hit the floor, bounce once, scatter like roaches Windows up in the ride, still smell the roach clips Mama’s eyes stay red, Kleenex in the glove box Daddy’s watch on my wrist, minute hand stuck, stopped Razor blade tucked in the seam of my Jansport First body hit the pavement, felt like a passport Twelve pulled up, lights low, sirens on mute Backpack full of work, cuffs click, that’s the fruit Lawyer said twelve months, judge gave it double Cell block numbers tattooed on my knuckle Came home, same corners, new faces got stripes Old plug still fronting, same scale, different price Mama’s rent late again, landlord at the screen door Third floor walk-up, bills taped to the screen door Night shift at the warehouse, forklift and a beanie Clock out, hit the strip, move packs in a beanie First lick, hit a runner, took the chain, left the scars Second lick, hit a stash house, left the dogs in the yard Mama’s fridge empty, lights off, candles in mason jars Prayers turn to silence when the candles get farther Concrete still warm where my brother got dropped Third Avenue got the plaque, flowers on the block Chain still on my neck, rose gold, two-tone Pockets still full of blue, folded in a phone Razor still tucked, just in case the work slow Third Avenue concrete still colder than snow