Plenty these days.
On a wall of a Starbucks
a dark skinned woman
picks sidamo coffee
displaying her milk color teeth.
on the mural at the ethiopian community center
young boys wearing shorts
play football on wet, green grass
somewhere in the northwest
on red square at the UW
the cornrow-braided woman
laughs looking into
the blue eyes of her boyfriend.
on the corner of milk and melting pot
warm brown skin women
sit around each other raising the room temperature
slowly sipping in the smell of
coffee boiling on the stove.
personally, you find me and my friends
in soul music
tasting the sound of guitar strings &
RED wine.
he finds peace in crowds
so he rides the 48th bus
to 23rd and Jefferson
with the dreamers and mothers and hustlers
as taxi drivers,
east african father soldiers
swirl maximum speed in
yellow cars,
on Seattle streets and allies
I slip on rain boots, black leggings
and my favorite red sweater
walk down pike towards 10th ave
to find the coziest seat
in the coziest little coffee shop
there I sit and write, rewrite my poetry to pass time.
my young brothers find
Amariya ticklish
giggling with every syllabus
that slips their mouth
I don't walk in their shoes
I was in high school reading/writing
history/science in Amharic
when we left
they were barely learning to
walk and count their U Us.
the devoted orthodox Christians
and their endlessly annoyed children
wake up 5:30 am on sundays
the women dress in habesha kimice
all crisp white outfit
with rhythmic color designs on the edges
Tilfe
the men throw nitella
on their shoulder
at the popular Starbucks
on 23rd and Jackson
the habesha men play
cards with politics of greed
and ethnic conflicts on their mouth
as passersby admire.
our faces are plenty theses days
our admirers are plenty these days
plenty these days,
plenty.
Writer-Selam Misgano
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