Nylon, Black, ’72

I don’t know why

most mexicans in my hood

wore nike cortez’s–

why the breakers in my crew

polished ‘em daily,

as if a little spit could

salvage our childhoods–

why we all know cortez’s are best

for c-walking, gang shit,

sick moves thrust

upon an opponent’s pride–

why we thought

by wearing the name

of our conqueror,

we might somehow

become him