I was awaken by the boom and thump of the subs that sat beneath the speakers.
I was placed in the closet, so they could have privacy, along with a collection of sneakers.
The women came in and out like clockwork and they were are clueless.
Never once did I stop and ask him, “Dad, why do you do this?”
While my mom hustled all week to pull us out of the hood,
my dad would visit me and teach me things I thought were good.
There was a time he popped up at Grandma Wyatt’s,
in the back of the den he helped me with math and taught me to box in the quiet.
At his apartment I was kept occupied by endless scary movies,
so that he could be alone with the woman for privacy.
He taught me that it was okay for women to come and go as they please,
that women would seldom be judged and pimping was easy.
I was taught it was okay to stay out all night because you’d recover;
that it was okay to allow anyone you choose into your home; under your cover.
He taught me strength of the heart and not the mind,
Which is why I will not fight to make you mine.
He taught me feelings should only be shown towards loved ones
and that does not include the one I chosen and told was the only one.
That I should move cautiously but with swiftness
because no one would care to penetrate past the thickness.