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Take It
Daddy'o. It’s All Yours
By Rudolph Lewis
I walked down
Pennsylvania Avenue for
39-cent stamps.
Coming
out the bank a kamikazee cop roared,
squealed
his car in the street & on
his speaker phone orders
black men
milling at the cut-rate to get
off The Avenue
& pronto—that's
what a
badge & gun will do when you
wag
the ass's ears—you can move the
earth's orbit.
Blues men men
learn lessons the hard way living in
shadows. Satan all
dressed in blue & chrome stalks
our neighborhoods like graveyards. Heavy hearts
always have empty
pockets. Eerie is the
darkness
with vengeful eyes. Our voyages
endless are dirty
& stupid as
these garbage strewn piss-smelling
streets.
Out of fashion in a South that could
not feed us we
trailways grief
for the promise land of ghettoes. There is
nowhere
else to go. We no longer
can ride the rails
of high speed
locomotives. But the blues
keeps walking
& waking
us up to terrible news. We still doing
that jive
on
streets. If we ain't dope dealers
& strung out drug addicts
we still be jailed
& dragged into cramped cells. Fear
smells
old as slavery pens & wild girls want
to be dangerous for
men with bulging
rolls of bills & big
black cigars,
who'll buy their
mamas new cars & love that salt fish
smell all the time.
Keep on dreaming. Keep on turning
on the 11 pm news,
hoping
you invisible to their cameras.
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