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Healing, Just Thinking, Philly Commute

Loathing & Fear

There is a Black man sitting on a bench in the concourse of the Broad Street Line. He is wearing a black jacket; obligatory grey hoodie beneath. 

Hood up. Head down. Hands resting gently against his cranium. 

Peeking under the sleeve of stereotypical is a hand tagged with tattoos, neck decorated and full. 


You would be suspicious of him if you walked up on him in a darkened area of the streets. 

Here encased in florescent light of cavernous morning you might feel otherwise. 

For a brief moment he raised his face toward mine; the first of what I assume may become many face tattoos rested below innocence and loss consumed eyes. 

As I moved my purse to the opposite side, wrapping the strap a bit tighter; his head slowly returns to unintended prayer position. 

I watch his left hand return to supporting his head; fingers of his right hand curl childishly as thumb extends to rest securely between lips of adolescence.

The discomfort of stereotyping against the desire not be victimized stayed with me throughout the day.


About The "SoKey" Experience

Each morning I wake I pour myself into a goblet, slowly inhaling the scent of my own faults, swirling them around the glass, allowing them to breath, then I sip, allowing my own inconsistencies to soak my tongue before swallowing. If I am tipsy from my own frailties - I'm less likely to become drunk on yours. -SoKey (introspection)


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