unless you lived in public housing
“ima
cook indefinite / i'm heaven-sent”--Stove God Cooks
peb called it the sheet of shame
draped hunger over the fridge
lurking in the garage with us
by the shit bucket / fiberglass.
skeletal structure hey cigarettes
smell sweeter at critical mass
and it was better than brooklane
village / government-imposed
rules but at pop’s laws laze
because fuck them, that's why,
he’d say, freedom to the front
after those 10 days in country,
scarlet letter on his non-house.
and i didn't have it the worst:
not crime-born, food stamped
from the get, mom nicks paper
route money on the daily, smoke
meth flay the stars loose, so
figure my guilt when i sold to her,
so bop country music / cosplay
head north to pan for gold /
oregon trail-ass fantasia /
but unless you lived in public
housing / garages / tents / vans,
you may not understand gunn
spitting versace a 1,000 time
shame draped over the valley,
dunking the hills / god cooking
