NOLA Poem


Skin

New Orleans blood runs under my skin
I feel the music pulsing through my skin
My skin speaks volumes of my heritage
Jazz bars eager for my liquor-soaked skin
By the skin of my teeth I meander across the street
Where they sell their skin
But my skin is taken for free, those glances up and down
My skin flushes, I like the attention
And my skin walks past before they can say a word and that’s how I like it
Skin in the game but we’re not scoring tonight
Skinning ourselves down the street, laid bare but no one cares
My skin, your skin, they’re all the same


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