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Free Harlem

"Free Harlem"
I never thought I'd ever feel free again.
The price I'd paid for the escape I'd had was too deep.
Too far gone.
Too dark to ever come back from.
But here I stand.
The sun on my neck on a corner in Harlem.
Breathing the restaurant-vent-infused air.
The bustle of this Harlem Tavern,
Where the world,
This small piece of our small world is changing. 
Caddy corner to this open patio lined with picnic bench style seating and bright red umbrellas is a line for a food bank. 
The angle of this intersection,
The irony of it's short distance. 
The truth of this change is unmistakable.
But so easy to miss.
'As I decide on the sweet potato fries and truffle aioli'. 
A group of four young, beautiful African-American friends walk by me to grab a table. 
I hear one of the guys say under his breath, "Where all the black people?"
I sip my Starbucks and the breeze makes this summer day feel, almost, Californian.
But I stand here in New York City,
On a corner in Harlem...
As the world continues to spin and change.

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