Pavement
by Kelsey Shipman


You wash my car

as I sit with white people
and white-enough people

ignoring their babies
for phones and ipods.

You sing the names of cars—

“Lexusss”
______“Neeesan”
____________“Hogwire”

and we dance in our chairs.

It's Monday. A spring afternoon.
Too easy to hover over you.

A chorus of brown faces
singing beneath breaths.

The only thing between us—
pavement.






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