Boston Boi Malika 5/30

Boston Boi #5 04.05.10

Your laughter smells like
Canoli from Mike’s in the
North End-
Cammo Red Sox ball cap,
The bill bent expertly by
Construction worker hands-
Getting just the right bend
Is a “thing” for Boston Bois-
Makes you stick out like a
Sore Thumb,
Hitchhiking it’s way back to the
Northeast.
Your “r’s” come and go,
More going than coming the more relaxed
You are-
Good Will Hunting on legs
That carried you over 250 miles of the
AT will eventually carry you back to
Your roots,
Away from slow Southern drawls
And Atlanta drivers;
Back to Copley,
To a transit system that actually works,
To Marblehead,
To Quincy, birthplace of your
Beloved Dunkin Doughnuts-
To your family that
Loves you
As much as I do,
To a place I called home
For a large chunk of my life
That ceased to be that when
Mom passed away-
To a place we may be able to call
Home together,
Witches willing.
Yes, those Salem Sages
Who’s voices can be heard in the
Echo of women’s laughter everywhere
May have more of a say in this one than
God.
You know what it’s like to be
Born and raised in one place,
To truly know a city like the
Back of your hand;
I know what it means to be
Home
Wherever Mother is,
And to vaguely recognize street names
Like those of distant relatives-
It’s all relative, really.
But I envy the easy way
You move through your beloved city-
You and she have way more history
Than you and I-
I want to know her like you do.
To have her recognize me
And welcome me back to where I
Grew up-
To have actually
Grown up
Somewhere,
For my laughter to smell like
A specific confection prepared at a
Specific restaurant indicative of my heritage-
But until then you’ll have to share.
Take me home and re-introduce me to
The college town I left to go to college from,
To where you helped build pieces of history
From the seat of a crane,
Folding pieces of yourself into the streets
Your soles curve to-
I know you’re going back.
It’s where you belong.
Maybe one day
I’ll belong there again
Too.