Its poppy season again #itslit,

look at US, we are all poppies here

ain’t we beautiful?

Yeah but look at them over there tho’, those

them half-breed poppies, Cali-prickly poppies

with that prickly poppy privilege, they think they

better than us, or them quarter ones too,

they ain’t real poppies! They got that soft skin,

they wilt super easy in the sun, they get bought

up real quick repotted in the house,

they don’t know the struggle.

It’s poppy season again, #itslit,

We are all poppies here, look at

US ain’t we beautiful?

But we mixed, half prickly poppy of

Northern Europe. I can pass man.

No one knows what I am, I can blend in, I can ignore

All that shit around me.  I got more access man.

When I look at myself I don’t see color. They don’t like

us anyways. I’m better

Thanna ol’ regular Cali poppy.

But did you see how farmer-john last week ripped one of

US out the ground for no damn reason, it was brutal, rolled his roots

Around his index finger and yanked him out of his socket,

stepped on him, dragged him around, then used a scythe

to cut his stamens off, man that poppy was mixed—naw!

he was regular Cali poppy. He don’t count. He count. Farmer-

john didn’t know the difference, didn’t matter to him at the

end of the day. To him we all look the same.


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