I couldn't stop googling mugshots : Prince, Madonna / billyclub on a Monday plot locked in Aristotelian... like in Clockers / runner addicted to malted chocolate rocks, and Papa / Papa the pills /our pills toppling into sold songs and mammies on the tv dinner tray in wrong aprons imma run again—
And what it's all leading up to is the longingest reunion, hundreds of us on one stage like it was our ships again... I mean all of us, Malcolm and Mlles and Nina and Etheridge and them, chanting a fantastic silence into the expectation kind of maple hunger becomes anger/funny and a sun in my heart the nights we spend listening to jazz and watching porn together until we lose track of the difference... unprecedented even prison is romanic and heaven is dumb and is there anyone who isn't sold into songs from one or the other or wondering at the slave hunter, is it my turn
