This is my tribute to Rosie Perez…
The scars on her hands tell stories from the past.
She might’ve been able to dance, but she walks through life with two left feet.
Stumbling over simple choices tripping over easy answers.
Someone told her she was beautiful – sounds like they’re gone.
The positive reinforcement made her confident on god’s path,
Now she’s starring at the squares on the bathroom floor, drying her face off with the filthy towels that hang from the racks, struggling to clean away the guilt and do the right thing.
The corner of the block where she lives bankrupt’s the spirit of the city,
It’s daily encounters with those lost souls searching for escapes peddling in pipedreams.
So when do we get out of here?
When do we get to leave?
Things never stay the same as much as they change,
Yesterday she told you she loved you and today, it’s a slap in the face and a fuck off!
But White Men Can’t Jump,
So I don’t know what you want from me?
My how high isn’t high enough,
My how fast isn’t fast enough,
I’m ignorant to the things around me that never materialize,
Naïve to the sounds of those problems.
This concretes been cracked for years now.
My hustle wasn’t so Russell, my patience worn thin.
I got rim checked at the finish line, gambled away our winnings to find a better place, and didn’t know of any foods that started with the letter “Q.”
So here I am sitting outside watching the wars of the neighborhood, running out of the fire that got me her,
The love & hate,
The sex & setbacks,
“Na I’m not tripping, I’m just a struggling man trying to keep my shit together in this cruel harsh world.”
Author:Ditto Ramirez
Photo Credit: Felt 3: A Tribute to Rosie Perez
