Free

Warped the way a flame dances on a thread
sometimes
makes me want to dance on top of sky scrapers
like
I am dove chocolate coated, plantain sweet.
See,
blackness in allies that scream parachutes
Hear,
fountains in centrals that harbor drunken suits
Feel,
earth in the lusting of one cricket to another
Smell,
freedom in the souls of birthed children of latin mothers.