Saturday, May 3, 2014


Somedays I speak poet. 
Some nights emcee. 
Sometimes both. 
Somewhere in the 
past my high school 
spanish teacher told 
me my tongue wasn’t 
well-bred enough. 
Some people chuckled 
why the words mumbled 
out of me; 
she was right. 
And even cared enough 
to find me when I dropped 
her class stealthily like a 
burden off my shoulders.
But nowadays I would 
ask her, what good is 
a foreign language if 
your native land already 
can’t understand you.


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