Deliberate

So by sixteen we move in packs learn to strut and slide in deliberate lowdown rhythm talk in a syn/co/pa/ted beat because we want so bad to be cool, never to be mistaken for white, even when we leave these rowdier L.A. streets— remember how we paint our eyes like gangsters flash our legs in nylons sassy black high heels or two inch zippered boots stack them by the door at night next to Daddy’s muddy gardening shoes.