Laughter chirps through my ears

A forever perfect

Harmony

In this imperfect world

Sunshine frames the chalk lines

Every colorful streak

A reflection of my friends

A reflection of myself

Moving boxes carefully across the street,

Looking both ways

before pushing a small cart of toys across the street.

Today we were moving,

But it was not a long drive to our new house,

It was a simple walk across the street.

Woman.

Care-taker, life-giver,

nurturer, chef, doormat.

Woman.

Raised to believe my gender put

me on the bottom.

I am to please, not to be pleased.

I am the inferior, the weak, the

soft, the submissive.

sing in me, O Muse, the plight of the second generation american;

she is a girl with brown eyes and skin and hair,

with $300 Beats that match her silk headscarf affair.

she brings “exotic” food to school,

and cringes when lentils get on her skirt of tulle.