I am the process it takes to win a domino match I am the cracked Heineken bottle, the glitter in the glass, and the rubbers of your soles protecting you from harm I am corner story glory and James Brown shrieks I am Thana Brick darkness and Marcus Garvey teeth I am boleros and bums, Apple Juice, mosquito bites, bogies and rum I am the inexplicably correct gut warning that danger is near I am two pennies in the trash, I am the Papa’s ear Ski-masked stunts and pre-rolled hunches We feed on salvation and odors still pungent Moguls, mafiosos, monarchies of mayors Biographies of the shitted on but celebrated later New York Kings New York, New York New York disrespectful winds make your New York walks brutal, epic, fast, slow, purposeful. New York smells like a hustlers hidden pockets. Rain water falls on our hoods and brims from the newly built scaffolding: gentrification baptism Dollar slice communions MTA evasions Ghetto beauty prostitution Black girl divinity Black boy solutions I am the puddle that wets your socks. I am the ignored temporary homeless who actually only needs food - the smell of the poor, unshowered snore that bothers your pretentious scary ass for 3 train stops tops I am 3 dollar wine Every scratch off lottery game winner combined The bank teller, sneaker store, Western Beef line I am the stretch marks on the most beautifullest dime I am the news that doesn’t report crime at 6am, 12, 3, 5, 7:30 and 9