Chicken King

Left on Broadway, Chicken King 18 piece spicy wings, extra ranch I cleaned the bone, skipped over cartilage Fried okra and sweet cornbread My car smells like thigh, breast, batter She finished next to me, asked "What's the matter?" Ethereal ephemera, death grip on the shift, I don't drive stick This shit comes to me automatic, like the flick of the wrist Speeding 110 miles per hour straight to the seventh heaven I sense God ears wide shut like pixelated monitors One foot in, the other in suspended animation like BMO on their skateboard I don't rhyme anymore I recite dua'a backwards Prayer hands to the tangible My parents sat me down, said Islam was the answer Couldn't sell me attention, reverse Jordan Belford The masjid feels like westside 502 at times, out of place, out of time I'm not supposed to be here, only it wasn't a lie My cousins think I speak English, it's more code to survive They smile and nod like they understand me Surrounded by family yet more alone than ever I tried to sleep on the mat in 100 degree weather Perspired through my clothes, total of 30 minute bedrest He said it was my home but I was more of a tourist in Bangladesh Short walk to my auntie house I sat and waited, I hate sitting and waiting Quote, end quote, a foreigner in my "own land" So homesick, I was sick of this home, man