“BMX Bikes, Beach Cruisers, and No Phones (’96)”

Imagine Aqemini sonic booming, and pimping butterflies to music to be murdered by. Sharpening knives, eyes prized on defending lives that don’t love unrequited. Rapping about real shit that the masses will miss; while tricking on command and giving city girls the chef’s kiss. Symbolism exists and remains so that all of the other elements of realism can be dismissed. It’s why women get roses while alive and most men don’t get our flowers until we die. And in a col’ world, it’ll be a no-name that the other ones run to without critically thinking, looking to cancel your acclaim. A society not acclimated with the acceptance that every moralist has forced themselves into lived scenes of irreverence. There’s something we all want, and some shit, we want in excess when in pursuit of freedom and independence – excellence.

Like quiet streets to swerve on, tires gripping, styling by neighbors, waving hi, rocking fresh kicks, getting a slow and steady roll on. Motorbreath, throwing up blessings, exhaling and thankful for the breezes present. Jet magazine, beauty of the week essences in your presence; into saging and making incense, knowing Jane Kennedy references.

BMX bikes, beach cruisers, and no phones. Too many places to go to be worried about going home…

Where the heart is

Welcome mat when guests get comfortable with you being back.