My First Love

sometimes it is in losing ourselves
that we find who we truly are.
rejecting the fabric we are made of;
fed new threads through chords and progressions.
trading identities and trading eighths,
only to find that our desires betray us
just as Peter's speech betrayed him.

we do turn into our parents.
i yearn the food mother craved for 9 months;
and instead of crying myself to sleep
i hum familiar tunes that have groomed me into a man.

wondering where the wonder years went,
i get by with a little help from my friends-
until getting by becomes the preferred flavor
where moving on up is the path only the privileged are privy to.

i ride high in my low rider
and consume thin air through my brown nostrils.
flipping sheets of dyed pulp,
while dreaming of time travel...
latching on to underground commodities
adopting and transposing
concocting and proposing...

step by step
treading water
back to a simple place.
using new threads as a platform
to come back...

to my first love

ARTIST**** Johnston Michaels