For Gia Shakur,
who once told me,
“One day you will shine nine shades brighter than the sun”

she told me
her grandmother
let her
cook crack
on the kitchen stove
as she squeezed the blunt between midnight lips
exhaling a cloud of hoola-hoops twirling in
the air.

the space between us captured our longing
to understand eachother
it’s amazing how all of our worlds co-exist
with one another
how separate we’d like to think of them

Biggie played on the radio
and we both nodded our heads
cult-like
to the beat
bobbing our bodies
jerking our joints

“You my bitch, Aja”
crept off the smoke in her throat.

i felt honored.
how spiritual we are–
the way we wound and heal,

in the caves of our hoods
how black and brown girls
gather and peel
comparing stretch marks
and playground scars.
how close we come to eachother
never touching
and when we do touch
–the moment we become physical beings to eachother–

it is then that we stand still in our selves
how the soul tap dances and gossips

the secrets
we hide
under our tongues
quiver and creak
like the cockaroaches
we chased together

-Aja Monet-