Somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff not my poems or a dance I gave up in the street but somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff

Like a kleptomaniac workin hard & forgettin while stealin this is mine, this aint your stuff, now why don’t you put me back & let me hang out in my own self

Somebody almost walked off with alla my stuff & didn’t care enuff to send a note home sayin I was late for my solo conversation or two sizes too small for my own tacky skirts

What can anybody do with somethin of no value on a open market, did you getta dime for my things…

Hey man, where are you goin wid alla my stuff? To ohh & ahh bout daddy? I gotta mainline number from my own shit now wontcha put me back & let me play this duet with silver ring in my nose?

Honest to God, somebody almost run off  with alla my stuff & I didn’t bring anythin but the kick & sway of it the perfect ass for my man & none of it is theirs this is mine to take ‘her own things’ that’s my name now give me my stuff I see ya hidin my laugh & how is it with my legs open sometimes to give me some sunlight & there goes my love my toes my chewed up finger nails, niggah with the curls in your hair Mr. Louisiana hot link.

I want my stuff back, my rhythms & my voice. Open my mouth & let me talk ya outta throwin my shit in the sewer. This is some delicate leg & whimsical kiss I gotta have to give to my choice without you runnin off with alla my shit. Now you can’t have me less I give me away & I waz doin all that til ya run off on a good thing.

Who is this you left me with? Some simple bitch widda bad attitude I wants my things. I want my arm with the hot iron scar & my leg with the flea bite. I want my calloused feet & quick language backin my mouth fried plantains pineapple pear juice sun-ray & Joseph & Jules. I want my own things how I lived them & give me my memories, how I waz when I waz there you can’t have them or do nothin with them.

Stealin my shit from me don’t make it yours,  makes it stolen. Somebody almost run off with alla my stuff & i waz standin there lookin at myself the whole time & it wasn’t a spirit took my stuff. Waz a man whose ego walked round like Rodan’s shadow, waz a man fasten my innocence.

Waz a lover I made too much room for, almost run off  with alla my stuff & I didnt know I’d give it up so quick & the one runnin wit it don’t know he got it & i’m shoutin this is mine & he don’t know he got it. My stuff is the anonymous ripped off treasure of the year.

Did you know somebody almost got away with me…? Me in a plastic bag under their arm, me danglin on a string of personal carelessness. I’m spattered with mud & city rain & no I didnt get a chance to take a douche. Hey man, this is not your prerogative. I gotta have me in my pocket to get round like a good woman should & make the poem in the pot or the chicken in the dance.

What I got to do? I gotta get my stuff to do it to. Why don’t ya find your own things & leave this package of me for my destiny? What ya got to get from me? I’ll give it to ya, yeah I’ll give it to ya. Round 5:00 in the winter when the sky is blue-red& Dew City is gettin pressed if it’s really my stuff ya gotta give it to me. If ya really want it i’m the only one can handle it.