Letter to Tom
By Steve
Letter to Tom
Tom
My former brother
of another mother
from Vietnam
It’s been so long since we’ve talked
Last time we smoked
Toked
Joked
Spoke about
Memories lost
In the frost of
Ice
I hope people don’t understand that line
Just trust me when I tell you that drugs mixed with mental struggles only manifest in more trouble
And turns memories to rubble
Nevertheless,
I could still see the face of the friend
Who first put the herb in my hand
I think I was about twelve
Blowing clouds
That’s the kind of model minority
I grew around
You were maybe 110 pounds
But the machete you carried
Made you feel as heavy
As a levy
holding back
Generations of pain
Enough to make
A child chase
Whatever type of escape
An adolescence
full of aggression
Is sure to get anyone stuck in a haze
An inescapable maze
We used to have fun
Just playing
Where did we go our separate ways?
There was never an issue of race
Until there sorta was
“Friendly El Monte”
Is only true in some cases
We both shared brown skin
But different origins
And sometimes the homies
Weren’t cool with that shit
We’re both
Products of our environment
But as I’m writing this
I’m reminded just
How different our lives were
What’s it mean to be the son of a refugee
I was completely naïve
To trauma and damage
that warfare brings
Just shrug and pass it
Always blunt passing
Deep questions rarely asked
What’s the point of being sad?
“Fuck it man, that’s just my dad”
A statement I could also relate with
Just not the same
Damn..
I’m sure you don’t remember the last time we talked
I wish I woulda told you how you shaped me as a person
You made me brave even
As a skinny little kid
Showed me how to hustle
Selling dimes and nicks
You’re the reason I first said fuck the police
I still can’t believe
How he had you pinned with his knee you were maybe 13
Since then it’s the finger for the EMPD
But I digress
I guess I’m just saying
I miss you
So when I see you again
Hopefully I have my piece or my pen
We’ll laugh and we’ll joke
Maybe this time we’ll cry when we smoke
But at least I’ll have this poem
A piece of me to take home
Either way Tom
I hope that you know
You will always remain my former brother from another mother from Vietnam