You know that feeling you get when something bad is about to happen? I had one of those. And couldn't nobody tell me I was trippin. Just a couple days ago me and some of my girls were chillin by the deli after school and the deli was completely empty. A Brooklyn Deli is never empty after school. That was the go to spot. If you aint tryna snack it up before you head home then you just aint normal. Anyway, I can take a hint. If the deli is empty, that means something is about to go down. I'm just confused as to why I didn't know about it. I knew almost everything that went down on this block. Me and Trisha still ordered our bacon, egg, and cheese at like three in the afternoon. Her face had gone serious, like she felt something was off.

The block was basically empty, like everyone just walked straight home.

"You wanna come over?" I ask Trish as we walk down Rockaway Ave.

"Yo ma got food?" She asks, her mouth stuffed with her BEC. I look at her and roll my eyes.

"She got food." I say biting into mine. "Ya greedy ass." I say with a full mouth. She laughs and takes a sip of her Arizona.

"Hurry up and eat. If ma knows that we bought food when food is in the house, she's gonna kill us." I say taking another bite. We walk a few blocks down and turn on Livonia, where I live. I was expecting to harassed by the same group of boys always chillin on the corner but they weren't there either.

I look at Trisha who was now done with her sandwich.

"Where Pookie and them?" She asks looking around. That was her boo or whatever she wanted to call it. I shrug and glance around, confused myself.

"Yo we need to go inside like right now. I don't trust silence, you know that." I say to Trish. She pouts for a few moments still looking around for Pookie. I grab her hand and pull her into my yard, and begin searching for my keys. Immediately two gunshots ring out and my whole body tenses. It was as if the bullet was no more than a block away from us.

"Shit! Hurry up and get the door open!" Trish knocks aggressively panicking.

I find the keys and I've never opened a door so fast in my life. We both run in and I close it behind me and run upstairs to my window to watch. Trish was already there.

"Ma?" I yell.

I hear her voice in her room.

"Yes Chanel?" She answers with an attitude and I already know where I get it from.

"You heard that?" I question. When I walk into her room she is lying in her bed, reading another one of those books I was never allowed to read as a child.

"Yes, and if you and Trish don't move from that damn window ima beat both of you. You know those bullets can fly anywhere." She pushes her glasses up and redirects her attention to the novel.

Trish found her way to my mothers door and gave her a head nod.

"What's up, Trisha. How's your Father?"

"He good." Trish answers. "Y'all got food?" She asks with wide eyes. I laugh a little.

"You got some nerve asking me for food like I don't see bacon grease on ya lips."Mom retaliates and I shake my head and begin heading back to my window.

Another gunshot rings out, this time it sounds closer, like it's right on our block. A few other gunshots go off in response. I look at my mother desperately hoping these shots are hitting walls or dying in the air as they travel. But I know better. These days, I just hope it's no one that I know, but it usually is. Making friends on this block, especially guys, was the worse. They were always getting mixed up in the violence.

I live around the very boys that fit the stereotype and statistics of black men and it was heartbreaking, because I've only ever wanted to escape it. I used to think that we all wanted to escape it, but sometimes I don't know. Sometimes it seems like the people on the block like the mix up. Almost like they thrive on it.

I am a poet and a singer, but I write better than I sing. So maybe, I am a poet who sings.

I've been writing since I was as young as I can remember. It was the only way I was still sane, my only form of release... my only escape.

Possibly the only opportunity I had to get out of the Ville.

The opportunity to make something of myself. You would think school was supposed to be that outlet for me, but my High School ain't shit. Colleges rarely look at students coming out of my school. My adviser says it will be different this year, that a few colleges have already been asking about me. I don't believe him, but Mom said to put my trust in the lord and he will get us out. Sometimes I wonder when.

It was quiet for a few minutes as I sat on my bed and zoned out. I can hear Mom and Trisha downstairs talking. Trisha's mouth must be full because her words are muffled. I stare out the window, waiting for a crying mother or for the police cars to roll around the corner. A wait that often took 45 minutes sometimes. Then by the time they actually get here, the person's already dead and the killer is already in another part of town. To say I am tired of it, is an understatement.

"Chanel? What that boy name that chills with Hitta?" Mom yells from downstairs.

"Mad people hang with Hitta." I yell back, making my way downstairs. I watch Trisha stuff chicken and beans into her mouth disgustingly. She was thick and beautiful. Her dark smooth skin was always something I envied but I would never tell her big head. She was not the most humble person in the world.

"The one with the oversize clothes, lil skinny one." Mom commented in a lower tone now that I was a few feet across from her.

"Oh, Francis." I said opening the fridge. I pull out the orange juice and pour myself a glass.

"Yea, Nadine was tellin me how he mixed up in all kinda things. She caught him sellin bud the other day and now some boys from the block lookin for him. So I hope that's not what's being dealt with now, cause he's one of the good ones." She said putting the orange juice back in the fridge before I could pour another glass.

I scoff. One of the good ones. The phrasing makes me tired on its own.

I hoped it wasn't Francis too. He was one of the few boys I liked around here. Always laughing and playing games. He couldn't be serious for a day in his life. I didn't know he started selling weed but I hoped that's all he was selling.

We sat there talking for a little bit before the police cars drove past our house and turned the corner, back on Rockaway Ave. It had been at least an hour. Mom, Trish and I were deep into a family feud episode.

People began coming out of their houses to see what was going on. I joined them when I saw multiple cops present, though they also killed us pointlessly when they felt like it. They don't care about our lives, that was evident to me as such a young age that it made me sad. They probably think we don't care about our lives, but that's not all of us. I wish I could tell them. Trisha and I walk down the street and turn the corner, while mom stays inside yelling at us to come back in before dark.

"You think they killed somebody?" Trisha asks wobbling up behind me. She wasn't fat so I don't understand why she walked like that. It was funny though. She used to do it to make me laugh when we were younger then she really started walking like that.

"I hope not. We don't need anymore deaths on this block." I breathe. By the time we get to the end of the corner we see a crowd of people gathered around in a semi circle. They didn't look like they could go any further from where they were so I guessed the police had blocked it off. I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans and then stuck them in my pockets. Who this time? My heart already aches.

Everyone was talking and it was loud though I couldn't make out what any one person was saying. I didn't want to.

"I told that boy not to get caught up in any of this stuff they got goin on around here. Just cause you in the hood don't mean the hood gotta be in you. I keep tellin em." Mr. Clark, the old man from across the street was always trying to mentor the young people but no one ever listened. Trish and I listened on occasion but Mr. Clark was a bit loony.

A girl I've been seeing around the block more and more was crying at the front of the caution tape.

"My baby, is he gonna be ok? My baby's gonna be alright, right officer?" She kept saying. Her pale face was red with tears. I pushed through the people and got to the front of the caution tape to get a better look at what was going on.

The body was in a stretcher in the ambulance, but the blood was still on the floor. I couldn't tell who it was.

I turn to a woman next to me whose name I never took the time to learn.

"You know what happened?" I ask trying to get some answers. She didn't answer me.

"Yo you know who's in the stretcher?" I ask the Deli man from the corner.

"The big boy with blue coat. He come in my store ask for discount every day." The Arabic man said. We call him Mohammed out of habit, never asking if that was actually his name. Mohammed shakes his head and a look of weariness crosses his face. We annoyed him but he still loved us and he felt it when one of us passed.

Us.

The word stings.

I still didn't know who he was talking about.

I watch the blood seep into the cement and shake my head. It's crazy that this didn't phase me anymore. Another life is gone and I can't even cry. I push my way out of the crowd and see Trisha standing against the gate by the police car. She's talking to Trevon. It chills me that I know his stance and the shape of his body. I was never worried about him being shot, even though I should be. He was just someone everyone loved. It didn't even matter what gang they were in or where they were from, everyone knew him and everyone had some kind of respect for him that I might never understand.

I walk over listening. "Yea, Francis know better than to get mixed up with shit like this man." He turns toward me and gives me a head nod then holds out his hand, welcoming a hug.

I hug him lightly but his grasp on me is so warm and slightly needy. He has this way of hugging me and slowly letting his hand scale my waist as he pulls away and he only does it to me.

"Glad you good." I say almost in a mumble.

"I'm always good." he smiles and shrugs then looks at me longer than he needs to, making my face hot. I turn to Trisha, who has a smug grin plastered on her face. I try to ignore it. "What happened? It's Francis?"

Trisha shook her head. "Nah his big bro. He took the fall for whatever bullshit Francis was doing. They don't know if he's dead though."

"Damn. Francis prolly goin crazy right now. You know where he is?" I ask Trevon. Him and Francis used to be good friends. They seem to have drifted apart.

"Nah, no one seen him but someone hit him up about the news. Said he didn't even say anything back, he just waited a few minutes then hung up the phone." Trev stuck his hands in his sweatpants pockets and stared into the crowd. "Tired of this shit man. Somebody always gettin shot up." He speaks low, like he is only speaking to us.

"Ima catch y'all later. Marvin probably in the house worried bout me." Trish says. Marvin is her Father, she calls him by his first name because she isn't too fond of him but he has only ever tried to look out for her. We do our little handshake that we made way back in 4th grade.

"Bye Trev." She said giving him a head nod. I knew she was leaving me to talk to Trev in private, she did it often and I always scolded her for it.

"Iight homie. Stay good." He replies. We watch Trish walk past the crowd and down her block.

We were alone now, even with a crowd of people around us, it always felt like that. To me anyway. I loved it and hated it all at once. He was very charming, almost too charming for his own good. He was cute in most definitions of the word, whether it was the biceps and strong facial structures, or the abs, or the smooth dark skin and dark eyes. I didn't care about looks like most girls did, but he made it hard to focus. He was special to me, as an old friend that grew up making me life difficult. On top of all his attractiveness, I guess his music was a plus. He was talented and I knew for a fact that if I was seeing all these qualities, that these little birds on block were taking note.

"What you bout to do?" He asks turning back to me.

I lift my shoulders then let them fall.

"Probably just head back home, ma said come in before it's dark." I look at his face as he lost himself in his own world. His eyes staring ahead but his mind gone to some place far away. He looks pained. I could always tell when his mind wasn't here. Of course his mind wasn't here, he grew up with Francis and his brother.

"Nah, you not goin home. We goin to the Bronx." He said walking in the direction of the train.

"Nah we not. I got school tomorrow and I already told you what my mom said." I turn to walk in the opposite direction back to my house when he caught up nd began following me.

"Iight we bout to go ask mom for permission, then you comin to the Bronx with me. I'll get you back early enough." He said. His voice sounds serious with a hint of desperation and I already know it wont make sense to fight him on it. Of course ma would say yes. She's loved Trevon ever since he was in kindergarten. Our parents were good friends considering Trevon was born 2 years before me, so we were the babies on the block. Trish didn't move here until 3rd grade. Thank God she came when she did though, I don't have many friends. But I like it that way.

We get to my house and Trev walks in front of me and knocks a few times. Practically ensuring that my mother sees his face before she sees mine.

Mom opened the door right away and had the biggest smile on her face.

"Trevon, baby. How are you?" She gave him a hug and he had that charming smile with that right sided dimple that he pulled out when he wanted something. Everyone loved it and he knew. I wish his cocky ass aint know.

"I'm hangin in there. Got a lot on my mind. I just wanted to get away from it all you know? Wanted some company over in the Bronx. Can I take Chanel with me? I'll bring her right back to this door before you notice her annoying ass gone." He chuckles a little, showing those dimples women killed for.

Mom didn't even hesitate.

"Sure, baby. Be safe." She says with rollers poking out of her hair. I saw somebody's foot by the couch and guessed that one of her friends had came over to tell her the news. She closed the door and it wasn't long before we heard loud bellowing laughter "He so handsome. They aint make-em like that when I was 17." We heard another female voice cackling in laughter as she agreed, I roll my eyes and suck my teeth. Just what he needs. People gassin up his head. I look at him and notice the big smile on his face. He began stroking a beard that wasn't there. I sigh heavy in annoyance.

"Lord Jesus, give me strength." I say looking at him.

He laughs. "You know you like this handsome face."

"Negative." I respond as we head towards the train station. This was normal, him kidnapping me. He's usually with his boys, especially now that we've kinda grown into different circles of friends around the hood. But every now and then he still finds time to annoy me for the evening.

"What's in Bronx anyway?" I ask as we walk up the steps to the train at Pennsylvania Ave.

"Don't question me. You wrote any poems lately?" He asks watching my face to see if I'm lying or even contemplating it.

I shrug and stick my hands in my pocket, looking down at the train tracks. I did have a few new poems up my sleeves but out of the 10 new ones I wrote, I only memorized two. The rest were in my notebook in my book bag which I left at home.

"I don't know what that means. You either been writing or you haven't and you always writing, I see you." I roll my eyes and look at him before starting. It was better to just give in than to argue with Trev, but he had to be the first to hear the newest pieces. I promised him and I've stuck to this promise for five years already.

"I am painted with wise words from a past I have never experienced.

Before me, I see all I have run from and all those have run from before me and I am encouraged-no, I am in fact quite enlightened. "

I stop in front of him and stare into his eyes conveying all the emotion I had put into the poem when I first wrote it.

"To put the pieces of the picture in the puzzle that fits so oddly in this society.

The black pieces with the jagged corners that do not fit into the white pieces with the straight ends.

The oil that will not mix with the water.

The carbon dioxide and oxygen in the atmosphere that separates its self even when placed into the harmony of our lungs.

My body cried with bravery for my people.

My people cry with bravery for my body.

A black body that is often not appreciated by my society.

And when it is appreciated, God forbid I don't have that fat ass that makes cash and gives Niggas whiplash.

A body that holds no value to the white man and his vacationing white sand from the colonized property stolen by greed and big words no one would ever understand."

I took a deep breath now as Trevon stared at me completely paralyzed by my poem. My face was pained and I felt my eyes watering. My fist clenched. Poetry often took me there without me realizing. I continued.

A contradicting story that is deleted immediately if it fails to give them Glory but I am

I am that jagged piece in the puzzle

I am that silky oil,

I am your oxygen

And you will breathe me in, sir you will.

Sir, my people have made this country and your children sing our rap songs like they know the struggle

Sir, you aren't listening, my people are loving but we lack opportunity so we hustle and we kill because that's all we know how to do- SIR?

SIR? 5 PEOPLE HAVE DIED ON MY BLOCK ALONE IN THE PAST 3 MONTHS...

sir, my mother prayed not to have a son in fear that you might kill him mistaking his wallet for a gun.

You will see the pain of my people

It will haunt you at night, my wise words will weed themselves through your dreams and our burdens, like a rock will press down on your lungs,

AND YOU WILL

BREATHE.

ME.

IN."

I repeated the last few words staring at Trev, slowly noticing the crowd of people who were gathered around us. All of them staring at me with wide eyes. They began applauding, one, then the other, and then everyone in the semi-circle. I hadn't known I created a crowd. I must have been louder than I thought.

I smiled slightly at the people around me.

"You got talent." A man said as we walked past me and down the station stairs. I could see our train in the far distance.

"Thank you." I said as humble as I could manage. I turned my attention to Trev who was still silent, but I noticed his eyes never left my face.

"I can't stand you." He said with a little trace of humor in his face.

I smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. " I aint even do nothin." I said, sliding my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants.

"I'm not gonna gas you, you know that's not what I do." He replied as the train pulled up.