Love Song For Angelina

Multicultural Mecca, Take me home, and make me your own, spit me out onto your baking streets, warm from the midday sun that swept across your pavement landscape, 'till it blinded our eyes and we could no longer see, the crumbling and decay that flows from your mouth, and with stars in our eyes, our minds awed and dazzled, we dance around to the beat of your people, as we spin, swerving in and out of taco trucks, old men drinking soju with a side of meat, and all those many signs that we can't read, ignorant that the cracks in your streets, and the graffiti that adorns your skin, are scars from a smoldering past, still raw in the minds of our elders, a time when a black man was beaten, and poverty and the projects called out for justice, and unanswered swept over you, a wave of flesh and steel, crashing through windows in a blind rage fueled by grief, and razed your streets, 'till my people too cried as gunshots rang through the air, pitting Angelino against Angelino, and Rodney King lay bleeding, not knowing what he had done.

Multicultural Mecca take me home, I know you have your flaws, your boils festering with every breath drawn, but Multicultural Mecca, oh I love you so, and everyday I draw hope, from light you shine upon us so warm, that eventually you'll see a time, when your streets will flow not with blood but with wine, as we celebrate the realization of what you were meant to be, perhaps not conceived as but destined to see, where an Angelino is an Angelino, and not Black, Red, Yellow, White, Brown, or any shade in-between, Oh Multicultural Mecca!: Take me into your arms!..and save me...from this wretched cold, because what do I know? I'm just a pampered boy from middle class, Orange County, suburbia...whining about the weather in an elite college, western Mass, bubble of utopia...but this is love, and I can't forget you...and I won't ever let you go.