by Ben Chambers
I grew up on Saturday cartoons and cereal,
After He-Man, we played basketball at school.
You grew up with breakfast immaterial,
Lacking nutrition, 6’2”, 4.6 40, chiseled.
I grew up on parents’ upon grandparents’ love
That continued as I aged, adulted, faltered.
You grew up under a lawman’s brandishing
Judge’s barrel decisions bastardizing.
I grew up among turtle toys littering
Campsites pale in moonlit darkness.
You grew up with pitbull guardians,
Barks and shots sounding life’s adventure.
I grew up at ballparks chanting anthems,
From hotel to hotel inside Disney.
You grew up kneeling politely in disgust,
County to clink enjoying the same drugs.
We grew up together, now live in worlds rendered – One white and blue; the other black and crimson.