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You Step into an Oakland Day

 

down neighborhood sidewalks

cracked by finger roots.

 

Down MLK Way

across from Marcus Books,

 

you breach MLK Cafe,

buy your regular large coffee

from me, a Black woman you’ve seen

 

in her employee skin

every workday for the past year.

 

I smile as if I’m your sister

yet you don’t know my name.

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