#darius johnson

she’s tryin’to, keep her one pair of shoes clean – cuz they’re the only things that’ll get’er home.

she knows , wizards, they don’t have wands, they’ve got batons– and she, of skin and not of tin, will bruise after they strike.

didn’t you know??– bruises; they heat up,

they get hot- like… fire.

Greenmount avenue is on fire

looks more like mountain ash to dirt return: Baltimore gets biblical, ’cause man this shit is burning down .

and she knows, a wish won’t make a difference because she’s the genie .. at least until they rub her out, that is.

—3 branches 3 wishes—

can’t ask for anymore, you won’t get it;

People only get to Oz by cyclone, traversing worlds they comin’ for Baltimore by cyclone; you only get to Baltimore by Chesapeake.

national guard in charm city like cyclone– shit was sparkling like, emerald, til they learned to make it ruby from red.

all these puddles of melted women; defeated by their own tears– look at how much they weeped, cursed the same as narcissus, to spend an eternity in water .

She doesn’t know if she’s burning – or drowning – doesn’t know if she needs, oxygen …

her sisters breathe but the air is still and the blood runs thin between the city and county between east and west north and south, they took her for granted .

peace is not fireproof when it’s bruised when it’s heckled, by choppers flying monkeys, by heavy handed monarchs, by mayors in the west who charm their citizens,

when there are no more boys to paint her road yellow: