American Rite Of Passage | The 21st Birthday

my blonde african princess’

blue eyes in the headlights


a black S.U.V. careens down the cul-de-sac

tight white denim and chortling bullet belt


disappear into cacophany

hey Girl, love the ‘do!


this is so and so and so!

midnight chokes my ancestors


after the obligatory drink

lead to honest complaints:


my sex life is better than hers;

my thoughts are too free


she'd rather not think

and for her, tonight is full of being real


identification happily surrendered.