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I live in the kind of neighborhood now
where old ladies wear workout clothes
to share the latest gossip and
kids play in yards with no fear of misdeeds.
Couples ride by on two-legged steeds and
if I had to guess I’d say only
one in five houses hide weed in some corner.

Grass is green and cut and
windchimes sing when the wind picks up
without muffling the birds’ conversations.
White, picket fences protect families at night and
there’s no reggaeton in the mornings.
Everything is quiet.
Everyone is white.

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