he hardly talks to me but it was only the two of us in the lift late today. he, a physical therapist in the building, was humming a rather maudlin stephen schwartz anthem and i couldn’t resist but joined him as the elevator neared my floor. he then looked at me and gave me this smile. i took it as his condescending approval of my being not that so other.
a fresh joint from this prince wannabe singer miguel starts “too proper for the black kids/ too black for the mexicans.” then it bleeds into “i look around and feel alone/ i never feel like i belong.”