Serious Workout Music

I don’t know where I am     ambulant clairaudiance  so maybe Brooklyn, new guinea, foster home or leniency roaming around in the strict scripture of choice            They were crossing a bridge in a stolen Accra while     I binged  on vapor rub and Tupac   interviews     my muscles stooping like thugs in a hood duel       In the grassy center divider  a sepia woman in a headwrap cradles a white baby  while the mother tosses a bag of rice  and whispers    this  is white  rice for  the children    I cringe around a wu tang hymnal    and miss a man   heedless  of where I am    a prodigal  scam   to  look so close  at a landscape it immolates   becomes grotesque with inevitably   becomes a city  you   can never leave  for trying     I know I’m in Costa Rica   having a dream  about the moon crumbling, caving   and everyone standing still  in their doomsay while   I run   and  run  to the pace  of summons     I know mine are ruthless   my  intentions    my   feet   my knotted   release       as I’ve  always intended   to love black genius out of the rubble of two wills          His father kidnapped him and brought him to Detroit   his mother found him   and took him back to Long Island      A shy     pawn   with a lawn made  of ice and bloody  Ike Turner                  We  turn toward  retribution