I am the color of the places I have been

Nola, flowering with butterflies

dancing the blues and singing jazz

like the color of night breaking into day.

Shy town, crumbling brick red

and stretching gray unabashedly,

with hot yellow summers

and white winters washing out the lakeshore.

Cali-brated, as cars in celebration,

jumping for joy like graffitied bodies

in Holi form, dripping rainbows where

dreams land and gold lingers.

Naptown, tiny skyline tightly curled

as black hair, natural and free,

as native trees, green with envy of me,

watch as I walk the city,

carrying my roots.