Child, younger, painter, the baby.
Slanted smile and inquisitive eyes
Takes nothing for granted
Gangster child in a white world.
Sand box bloodbaths at the age of two,
Ponies at the age of four,
How it all happens.
The seasons watch you grow
And the fashions keep watch.
In one hand a tree, in the other a handbag,
Both sides of the island smile and let you pass.
In youth endless possibilities
Through expatriated storms and paradise remixes.
In youth dance floor freedom and jungle eyes,
The birch trees show their love,
The dj’s show their love
Wailing across Manhattan yellow taxi cab fever
Drinks with the baroness again………
The rising price of land…….
When you know it’s crazy then you’ve arrived.
In youth there is nothing fancy.
How we get dirty everyday.
September 21, 2011