Miami adds some curl to my hair
but my buds taste LA
They always ask my nationality.
But in reality I’m from here or there,
depending on where you are.
This is no so-called mark of pride.
The foreign object in my mouth is just
that SoCal tinge that almost screams
I’m hungry for feud not food.
In this party, I’m a little accent:
a red chili on the side of the plate,
a brunette among a sisterhood of blondes.
Bite too deep and I might bite back or burn
and fight the tongue that tastes me.