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RUBBER LEGS. freedom. n' feelz. and D. #6


As I spread organic peanut butter

on my brown rice cake

an elderly man strolls by.

Cane in hand.

An extension

that his younger self

probz never thought

would be his world.

Two yellow, narrow teeth

are all that remains on his lower jaw.

and long white hairs

adorn his delicate neck.

He's 82

and proud to be.

Said he use to want to be a boxer.

He outlived Muhammad Ali.

A resident of


Three grand a month

on the bay.

and rent in New York is still fakin’ expensive

even in a nursing home.

He’s Sober.

41 years.

and proud to be.

drugs got Prince.

He says

only had morphine once.

He says.

and the best thing that happened to him;

was getting married.

He asks for a job.

kicks up his cane

and does a solid dance.

He movez

his strong, fragile, frame

on a Monday at noon.

sayz they call him,

Rubber Legs.



the freedom that comes with having a vehicle

sometimes gets lost

on being 28.

and the freedom that comes from being employed

sometimes gets lost

when your ego thinks you’ve fallen

from a place that doesn’t exist.


n’ feelz

I sent him a text last night

that clarified

that when I confessed

I felt


it translates to

I need you

in mah lyfe


and D.

he lights me up



it’s a late night

and i’m lying on the ground

in his lovely, gnarly voice-

yo D- hows this look?!

i chime in,

yea D! how does this look?


I see enough of that.

he smirks.

he greets everyone

every morning

his daughters are smart

and kind and beautiful

he fist bump approved my bf

and he liked an instagram post last week.

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