Why I love my city

I love my neighborhood, not because it’s pretty but that it’s gritty. I mean don’t get me wrong there are beautiful neighborhood gardens all over the place but of course, the city has a sign saying we can’t go in, which I find ironic. The beautiful yellows reds and blues are so far away all we see is grey and green, because we get through the grey day to make a little green, though it’s my favorite place doesn’t mean I want to stay. I love my hood because it is what breaks us in order to make us. The streets will kidnap you raise you spit you out and send you back to your family to bury you. Kensington in north philly ain't no joke. Cops always harrassing, not just the guys, they are actually pigs, literally will drool at you in shorts and pullover. Black cops are no better than racist white ones, there's one around my way who hates spics as he likes to say. The cracked concrete beneath my feet, the shattered glass that will cut you open when you fall, the blows you get in a fight, the smell of lou every where you go the sight of prostitution on your walk home, the feeling of a fein falling to their knees and in disgust you creep away so you don’t touch their infectiousness, watch where you fall cause you'll end up like my cousin lex who fell off her bike into a needle and now has aids. I love the sound of suavemente besame...on saturdays. I love the smell of the pastellio man, I love the feel of a kiss of respect on the cheek because where i'm from even if you meet you leave the greet by kissing on the cheek and saying be safe because where i'm from is no joke, its what makes you strong, it’s what gives me the motivation to succeed. Thats why its my favorite place.