inform you that
I am a middle-class
thug, a code-switching whore dressed in
Chanel.
I live
between the lines,
cussing out the waiter
for bad service, then still leaving
a tip.
I am
a rope and plank
bridge stretched between two sides
swinging topsy-turvy before
crashing.
I say
all this not to
scare you, but to give fair
warning for when I snap, dropping
your ass.
I'm your
average Black
woman with cockle-bur
hair, needing a six-week touch up
no lye.
