Black 'Ristecrats

By Marcus B. Christian

Papa's on the avenue

With his streamlined eight;

Big black cigar,

And a heavy date.

Son just out of college,

Night club hound;

Li'l sister truckin' --

Wonder where's she bound?

'Taint nobody left at home

Burning gas logs;

Mamma's in a hot spot

Shaking up her dogs.

Owl-eyed black man,

With a wooly head,

Asking empty benches,

"When will black turn red?"

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