Poem: Box of Brown by NSAA

Trapped in our box
in our world
on our block
we feel so safe in our little box

With walls of brown
all we do is stand around
we have discussions
on how we can make our box
more brown

Our clothes are brown
our local mime
acts like he’s trapped in a box;
what a clown!
How does he fold himself up like that,
on the ground?

We talk about the news of the little girl
that drowned in Brown Lake downtown

One time we had someone paint a mural
but we all frowned
we stoned him to death
because the paint was off brown

We sing songs of Saint Augustine Brown
for it was he who found
and named our safe little town
“Box Of Brown”