after Gwendolyn Brooks*

Last night we got fried
While you stayed inside.
Can’t say we tried.
What’s your excuse?


Tonight we drive cars
Drunk to bars.
You’re stuck in the tars
Of that **** Spanish.

We’re good to go
You repeat “No.”
What a great show
bare-breasted ENCORE!

Have fun retiring
We’ll be expiring
Our children perspiring
At the thought of us leaving them nothing.

me and cuz are gettin stove-piped
by three ripe, early-eyed airborne minds
me and cuz are flappin just right.

sharp turn on that slippy turnpike.
I spy twisted steel, cuz musta lied-
bottle kneck, open backpack, plastic bag.

guess cuz was 'fraid of a gun fight,
wid a seatbelt stained red on both sides.
me and cuz got us stove-piped.

There's a bruised cloud sitting above me.

aren't its glowing edges lovely?

Even though the sun smiles,

no raindrops for miles,

This cloud's staring, not blinking, not budging.



But I'm not lost, I'm not even alone

standing outside- in the cold- of my home

where not a soul stirs

save my echoing words,

'kept company by the sound of tires on the road.



See, I wanted the world to stop moving

till it parked, dropped me off in a state of not doing.

Coming home's gotten hard,

I've outgrown this backyard,

So my feet weep and itch to keep cruising.