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Free Entry 2, Week 14

Mother Taught Him All the Lessons He Would Ever Need

One time a white girl in need of the friend
called me white because I was light,
because I still am, used to be,
chose to fight her, beat her like her parents
clearly didn’t, ground her face in dirt and rocks
until she was dark as I should have been.
My cousin let the fight go on
Because she was my teacher at the time.

Another time my father Warren
Taught me to back the red Chevy up,
So faded, I thought he used Kool-Aid to paint,
Back it up until you hear glass.
I hit up that reverse
Because he was your grandfather, the one you are named after.

Most times when your grandfather drove through town,
he would pick up anyone,
anyone walking and not driving
needing a ride and possessing two legs
he would smile at and help hop in
and drive them where they wanted to go: never turned down
anyone walking and not driving that is.

One time I showed you the picture
of your great, great-grandmother
And you realized why you are the tone you are
And why your grandfather is the tone he is
and why my cousin let me fight that girl
for looking for the friend and why I back up until I hear glass.

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