The Stranger

I used to wonder why the sky was blue

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck

And how many licks it took to get to the center of a tootsie pop

The stranger in all of the photos is me

Somehow she’s prettier

 

I used to wonder how 9 years old is so different from 10 years old

I used to wonder why Grandaddy died

I used to wonder why I couldn’t go with him

I used to wonder what it meant to talk white

I remember the stranger in the photo

She’s really pretty

 

I wonder why there aren’t riots in the street

Why racism has been normalized

Why I can’t be proud of who I am

The girl in the photo

I wish I could say that I knew her

 

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