Forgive me sir,
for not dressing,
speaking, greeting
like you do, in the hood,
my home, your home,
our home.
   my environment
   hasn't made me,
   dear sir, my
   imagination, my
   imagination has

Forgive me sir,
no disrespect do I
give when I grant myself
a different path to live;
no ignoramus traces,
assurance, in these places
I once roamed.
   they once tried to
   fit the word "ghetto"
   on my person and
   scoffed at the notion
   I lived with it for years

Forgive me ma'am...
O, girl, mama, pardon the
initial label, not to make you
seem old, though your body
you keep giving to the guys
(they say you give the best)
is close to beat, so beat,

but again

forgive me ma'am -
I'll go back to calling your
seventeen sweetness that -
for not shedding a tear
for you, though three
for the two you tug along,
holding Dominique, pushing
Laquincel in her stroller, three
and one and a half; their father
would be proud, ah, but where
does he live? We'll find him together.
   I'll roil inside as you
   tell Laquincel to shut up
   for crying aloud in the cold
   windy day - she'll be better
   once you give her some
   Cheetos

Forgive me Night,
I love you, truly,
though I need the
light to befriend me on the
journey home cause these
people don't know their
wrong from their right.
   hooded figures
   figure there's always
   a way to get something
   when their nothing is
   becoming too much

Forgive me Philadelphia,
everyone's blaming you, no
one's taking the blame themselves,
for we are a murderous people,
traitorous thieves, hounding
rouges that are misunderstood,
but our downtown is looking quite lovely.
   I hear they'll
   be opening a
   Apple store
   down there quite
   soon

Forgive me, dear sirs,
forgive me, dear madams,
I would never mean to encroach
upon any stereotypes you would
keep this fine city in.
It simply troubles me
they stay so, so deeply entrenched.
   along with everything
   you think should be
   about me