Born a Crime

walked down the road all these old
white men were walking toward me
and past me. My father was pushing
seventy by that point, and I was so
afraid I’d forgotten what he looked
like. I was looking in the face of
every old white man who passed
me, like, Are you my daddy?
Basically it looked like I was
cruising old white dudes in a
beachfront retirement community.
Then finally I got to the address I’d
been given and rang the bell, and
the second he opened the door I
recognized him. Hey! It’s you, I
thought. Of course it’s you. You’re
the guy. I know you.