FOR IAN SULLIVAN UPON JOINING THE EASTSIDE WHITE PRIDE

Even now

Even now

Even now

no one can say that you were never a child. What our neighborhood

lacked in compassion it made up for in baseball           (stomp)

bats and chain-link fences. Asian mini-marts

and your parents’ rage swelling inside your chest           (stomp)

like someone pumping up a basketball, like someone taking

a long drag off a cigarette.

Now when you get dressed you get dressed           (stomp)

for battle. People cross the street when they see you

like you were black. Like you weren’t afraid of anything. Like there

was nothing you wouldn’t do. But you are afraid           (stomp)

of everything

of everything

of everything.