The Bronx, take two; acapella.

the woman I am in love with is playing

with her black baby doll sitting on the corner.

her back drop: graffiti pretty and settled

like the beginning of this poem;

she is the moment a breath collides

with the microphone, she is still.

her posture, calm and stilled

and Big Pun’s first album is playing

right on Tremont Ave we collide-

in the middle of a desolate corner.

her first words are a poem

that finishes right where we’re settled.

Jonas Bronck was the first she let settle.

back then, the Bronx River was opportunity stood still

like the beginning of a poem.

I imagine him pondering the zoo, playing

with the heart of my home, twisting its corners

until its buildings collided.

now, we still collide

on the same streets my grandfather settled

a bottle of Malta India on the corner

sits photograph still.

his grandson finding comfort in playing

with spray cans, making walls into a poem.

the woman I am in love with is a poem,

like 5^th grade, elbows and knees colliding

with the concrete; with the middle schoolers playing

football after the sun has settled

behind the Cross Bronx Expressway, traffic stilled

and my blood mixes with melted gum on the corner.

this corner

is the only woman I’ve ever loved like a poem.

the way your hip-hop still makes the earth stand still

like breakdancers, elbows and knees colliding

on the same streets we settled

our bookbags after school and started playing

like breakdancers, elbows and knees colliding

on the same streets we settled

our bookbags after school and started playing…