East Palo Alto May 17, 2015
I was sitting at the corner of Cowper and University, when a red Corolla pulled in, windows down A black man shouted, "Yo, where's EPA, man?" I looked into his eyes, ignoring his smirk. Where's East Palo Alto? It's in your face. It's in the dents of your car It's in the backseat where you're clothes are Because some yuppies bought your house for a rent that's twice your monthly income. Where's East Palo Alto? It's in the jails of this country, It's in the blood on the pavements It's under the sheets in the morgue. Where's East Palo Alto? It's behind the counters at the ice cream shop, It's in the old eyes of the young girl who hasn't slept in days To pay the bills of an education loan that promised a job but didn't. Where's East Palo Alto? It's 9-5 in the corridors of your office. PM to AM. When you can't see their faces, and the abuse they face. Where's East Palo Alto? All I could say was, down the road, The one all of us are on. To which, he replied, I know man, just playing with ya.