There’s a girl in Philly with the same birthdate as me. We met around 2001.  On some “shut the fuck up” shit. We both can be very direct. We recognized ourselves in each other.  And we stayed down ever since. Who else but somebody like me could tell me about myself.

Well she came calling. Out the blue she is at the airport. She knows my movements.  She is love in other places. I drop everything –  screaming – to go get the woman who moved me to Atlanta in 2008.
We shout.  We laugh like crazy. We hug. We talk fast. We do our favorite activities.  She knows I’m in the struggle and she is here to lift me up. She treats me like a queen. Nothing but the best for the best. We maximize every hour. We run the streets.

She treats me to all kinds of food and beverages. She treats my daughter. She bosses me around. She critiques my flaws. She mothers me and nurtures me. She lets me eat the cheese off her salad.

She finds the right spot. For trap music and liquor.  She raises several glasses with me. We dance in our seats.

img_2108-2 She is more love than the shrimp and grits. She is always pina colada by the pool love. And she is most definitely that full tank of gas in your car love. She is the love that takes you to hear Bryson fucking Tiller.  Yasssssss. She did that.

She is such a good woman. She thinks about others before herself. I used to be like her … Before the world turned. She inspires me to be better. More mindful of my actions. She motivates me to be more love in other places in real life.

She came right on time. She is a medecine. A change agent.  She is that die-hard, rambo, never relent, pick up my pieces, shake the shit outa me, ultimate fighter love.  Thank you, MB and Jesus, for October love. Cuz this is not



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