Pavement
by Kelsey Shipman
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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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