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twenty-four

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twenty four hours in a day
twenty four years since

riots serenaded the streets of L.A.
that powder keg of corruption

safety of unreality violated
blue and red combined

made purple, united
against the tyranny

of the 5-0
we lived six hours away

working class neighborhood
southside Modesto

I can see your face cringe
all the way over here

when I tell people where I lived.
never thought it was that close

until the house down the block
had black and whites

crowding our quiet street
red and blue lights pulsing

imprinting in my brain
that damned song worming

its way into consciousness
breaking off my innocence with it.

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Icon of a hand, hoding a pen, writing love, peace, and adobo grease, Guilliean

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