 My pops was a genie living in a bottle. Light and dark in us, I owned Vitiligo. In Pentecostal Chicago, bravado and bravery. We went from cargo and slavery to God-floated patency. And took agency for what we made to be. With no reservations, I sit down like a maitre d'. Money ain't swaying me, that's the day to me. Some took shots over bars, they ain't grazing me. The way I move from A to B, they hate to see. The Hawkins sang a song for me to live gratefully. When it's free.