I saw him in mine: To Trayvon’s Momma: Remembrance & Prayers

I saw him in mine

Long and lean, just beginning to fill out

Proud of his lite, oh so lite ‘stache

nothing could beat his budding pecs, molehill sized triceps

Most definitely not his shawdow’d six pack

That’s what he thinks, that’s what he knows

He brags on them often

Flexing, prancing, flexing once more

like Andre the Giant or Booker T

He displays them all in the reflected image

Of his mother’s deep brown glistening irises that shine

he is EVERYTHING and even more!

I saw him in mine

Getting taller each day

Able to reach upper cabinets to put plates away

Stretch wide to finesse a layup

Extended length dreams of smashing backboards

Dunkin over kings of courts much taller than he

Ten feet of air beneath his feet

trekking up ceilings like Shaquille once did

Glad to greet with the BEST hugs

almost able to see eye to eye

6’2 his aim, born biggest of the four

Trying to keep his title

I saw him in mine

Laid back, super chill

Most days that is

until there’s a desire to be had

Or fussing to block out, or shoulders to shrug

Adolescence sometimes confuses his respect with insolence

A talk back, pursed lips, deep huffed breaths

His actions impulsive

Hormones outsourcing intelligence

“Manchild” his daddy reminds

Prayers to cover, grow up, give wisdom

a constant

I saw him in mine

Wanting the new of it all

Street Cred found in shoes, gear, electronics

Only the real deal, no fake name brands

Secondhand Electronics surprisingly acceptable

thrift store visit requested

“I’ll be quick.” He says.

“No, just wait. I’ll go too.” Mother hen protects

“No really, I’ll be quick,” he pressures

“Ok, be careful!” she concedes

Then a glimmer, an unexpected moment

An angst of fear

As he runs away in hostile territory

Hoody on top

My long, lean, ascending 6’2 Manchild

Broad shoulders

Much like Trayvon Martin

on that day

I saw him in mine

By Robin Mile’ Pizzo ©2016

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