I apologize

For living in the suburbs,

For talking white,

For trying to be cooler than I am,

For locking my windows when my mom drives me into the city at night,

For choosing Harvard over Howard,

For not going to public school,

For taking Paige to the prom,

And for sitting up in church, singing hymns like life was ever hard for me.

I apologize

For that time I pretended not to see you cutting up,

Or the time I sat in the barber shop, scared that more than my hair was going to get cut.

I apologize

For looking like you, but not knowing exactly who you are.

But you can apologize too, you know.

I hear you laughing at the way I speak,

Pointing at the geek you say is me walking up the street,

Asking why my family gotta act so white.

Stepping up to me because you think I can’t fight.

I know what happens when I show up at a dance:

You and your boys sit back and don’t give me a chance.

Laughter happens whenever you see me around,

Unless you need to borrow some money.

Then, well, of course me and you is down.

I don’t always understand you.

You don’t seem to get me at all.

I prefer golf,

You swear by basketball.

We are

City

And

Suburb,

A million miles apart.

Brothers

Still trying to understand and forgive one another.

So I apologize

For whatever.

And you?