College in the Boondocks

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(I wrote this the summer before I went to College)

College is supposed to b where I grab an education.
But who would think I would b going into a land so far away its tucked behind the devil’s asshole.
In the bushlands of Central PA I will no longer b one of many negro in my class, I will b the onli negro.
I wont b able to hear the screech of the buses that need new brakes
I’ll miss the YO MA’s and the HEY BEAUTIFUL’s
I wont c condoms hangin out under the park bench or hookers working their shit on the corner.
The smell of curry when I go to little Guyana will no longer b there
Neither will the smell of fish when I head into China Town.
The dark haired Italians will no longer b flipping pizzas in the corner pizza shop
My Puerto Rican pappis will no longer b playin dominos while sitting on crates, singing bachata songs and smoking Cuban cigars.
No longer will I pass the hustlers on the corner TRYINA MAKE A DOLLA OUTTA 15 CENTES.
I’ll miss the sistahs on the corner that duke it out ova some bullshit
I miss the phone wires that are draped in sneakers that carry the flags of gang that mark their territory.
Or the n***s that stand on the corner and hug the block with all their n****s. The ones dat are out there through rain, sleet, snow, n any weather.
Or the dudes that ride around on bikes that are 5 sizes to small for their tall asses
I’ll miss the sitting in a venue for a poetry slam listing to the flavor of the souls of the people of my city.
The people that talk about tuff love, the hate, the greed, the anger, the fury and the envy.
The ones that flow about their first loves, the ones they love, or the ones they hope to love.
I wont hear the accents of the different ppl that make up my city, NEW YORK CITY.
Da Punjab that asks u where 2, or the china man dat asks u if u want pork fried rice wit that.
The Jamaican who tells u to Scooby Doo or the Dominican who hooks you up and makes ur hair looks nice.
Where Im going, is not my comfort zone… this is a place where WAT UP MY N***A will become offensive
And the closest thing I will have to the city is a small town that gets excited over a new Walmart.
The latest fashions will no longer b brought on Jamaica Avenue for half the price.
They will b bought in malls where white ppl roam the aisles.
My hair won’t b done by the Dominican, they will b done by a roommate (hopefully someone wit skills).
No one will care about the types of exclusive sneakers I’ll b rocking or the sexy cut in the new jeans I got, or how PHAT MY ASS LOOKS IN DEM JEANS.
I will b in a world so utterly different I will b lost hopefully to b found again. Because There will b no signs to point me in the right direction and tell me its time to move on and explore, to grow, and mature.
As long as I listen to 2pac, Im sure I’ll b just fine,


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