When we met he wasn’t into the street shit no more. I liked that. Cool. Extra cool. No late night early mornings running around dirty. Said he did that before, been to prison and all that but he was done, never again. On some fuck prison shit. Got a regular job, a 9-5, and wasn’t playing with it.
He told me that around the block behind my house. He didn’t live over here anymore but this was his hood, his block, his exact stomping ground. Told me that the first time we spoke it was random for him to even be there. Out on the street on a hot summer night. I was on my way to New York to go get dicked down by my ex, had on a freakum dress in the middle of the hood. Standing with strappy sandals on my feet on the cracked concrete in front of an empty lot a couple buildings down from the corner store.
Well that’s where he saw me from and from there on he was coming to see me and then quickly was coming around just for me. Even his people saw like, Yo you wasn’t out here like that before, wasup. Then of course people started to know what was up. Of course he was saying shit too. He was fuckin with the bad whitegirl in the brand-new building. But I was on my own finding out that he was back fucking with the white girl from his old building.
It started out small, like playing bodyguard, you know, just helping out when it was convenient. Directing people around turned to collecting a lil money turned to keeping a few bags on him himself. Hella singles, followed by a crumpled up baggy dropping down a couple seconds after his pants fall to the floor. Yeah, you know that turned to being on the block a lot more than my house. Turned to being outside without even looking around for me or nothing. I mean who am I now?
Well that turned to coming by for a second and then leaving. Or fuck it, not even coming back in the evening. I know that this is the prequel, this is what happens before en media res, this is how it goes when their head falls forward and there’s nothing you can do about it.