Three black boys,
walk up the street and say,
“Who sits outside all day... and READS!”
Oh, how I fell sorry for these kids,
for they’ll spend the rest of their days,
glued to a screen,
for they’ll not know the joy of language
And is it not ironic,
as I sit here reading one of my favorite poets,
Terrance Hayes,
who is also black?
Portraying their macho attitudes,
I sit here and smile,
with joy
For their loss,
as cliché as it sounds,
is my gain
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