april twelfth two thousand and eight
i open up the paper and what do i see
stories not meant
for me
cuz if they were/i would feel them
and in a blur/i would hear them
all the mouths screaming
bubble gum dreaming
fangs glisten gleaming
childrens faces beaming
and bleeding
for change
change
*
change
just a quarter
was what i asked the man for in the evening and what he gave me
was what i gave the woman seated next to me
this morning
in the dollar van on flatbush street
glossy black, shiny rims, incessant honk
tell the people you are here
i caught it after i got the strawberries, coconut biscuits, and oj
from the asian owned grocery store at beverly
it was steam coming up from big bowls of ramen
breakfast time for the workers and for the boss
one seated up front with the paper
two seated in the back together
and the lady at the register
pulpit
power
alone
i got on the dollar van
which just got turned a dollar fifty
and sank down between two worlds
the flying by flatbush stores
outside a people overworked, floored
inside the rope attached to the door
a driver pulled out smiles from every west indian core
expose soca smile
why dont you stay a while
driver
u wan me l8?
he’s up there counting his 1’s and 5’s
at every red light
heads up and fight
this way
warm and with smile
dollar van
i like your style
riled
up this spring
trees bloom like bling
cant help but to sing
and bring
love
morning dove
come give me a hug
luna
here goes some tuna
for your rug
and some humor
for that persistent bug
i heard that persians were gloomy
and vietnamese cats were not to be fucked with
and black folks will cut you
and gujrati homeless hotel owners pimp their guests
and a nigga like me is still on my quest
and im thirty
and my smiles so dirty
you could see it cream
spring dream
come clean
don’t be mean
cuz outside
the war is on
the snack bar is now open
and between my hands
is a prayer
one less layer
god
please one less layer
*
free tibet/free me
be tibet/be me
then tell me
who to hate
*
as ever,
naXal/RS
2 Comments
April 18, 2008 at 9:39 am
in capital
letters
the PH balance in D
minus
the knowledge
thrives
but here
wisdom
her thick rivers
light
hearted
survives
thank you for another beautiful post
April 20, 2008 at 12:09 am
I remember those dollar vans. broadway yunkshun, they’d say(back in starrett city). they still make the runs down flatbush, all the way to kings plaza. Sometimes they get into an accident, there’s always a victim, but not the driver. He runs away, back to the shadows and underworld. One called my moms a bitch. She tore him a new one. Didn’t know a white woo-mon could do that did he. She dropped a call to the po-po; we didn’t see them for several weeks at least, just da woop-woop a coupla tymes. haaaaaa