PUSHCART PRIZE 2020 : Typa place / Rohan DaCosta

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I burned my tongue on an onion ring
I was thinkin’ of a prairie 
Typa place you take yo’ shoes off
“Not in” grandmama’s livin’ room
Not so different from that look in yo’ eyes
When you done gone mad in a mad city
And you so stir crazy that it hurts lately 

All you wanna do is run wild 
Like you ain’t been taught nuthin’
Typa place I lay my head down 
Face to face wit yo’ soft side
I be tryna talk some sense to yuh

Befo’ I gih yuh duh world I gotta know 
What iss hittin’ fuh 

You suck yo’ teef and shiver by the radiator 
You say yo’ supervisor don’t like yo’ attitude 
You say you don’t like huh lazy eye
Who duh fuck she lookin’ at?
Who duh fuck she think she talkin’ to?
She need tuh worry ‘bout huh boyfriend 
And why his hands got huh 
Lookin’ like Kung Fu Panda every otha Monday
We agree on “Oh well”

You huff and puff 
While standing in the heatwaves 
A melting snowflake slides down your neck
“You so pretty
Juss like a chocolate bunny on Easter Sunday”

You put a square to yo’ face 
And dream of ancestral planes
You open your eyes to food deserts
Fraudulent niggas and scams
And the only typa pyramids 
“They” could manage to arrange 

I say quit playin’ and come to bed
Let us perform a ritual,
Let us chant with our private parts poking out

We ain’t got sage but we got incense 

I bet if yuh quit complainin’ you could hear da ocean 

I stubbed my toe on the auction block
I was thinking about family values
Fantasizing ‘bout Rihanna
I was seeing jets over Mesopotamia 
Typa place I lay my head down


Rohan DaCosta is a writer and artist living in the Bay Area.

PUSHCART PRIZE 2022 : Clothesline / James Cagney

PUSHCART PRIZE 2020 : All the Arms We Need / Kristina Ten

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