Sugar Hill 2005-2009 (4)

Harlem

lullaby two thousand and five

august, hot, humid, horrid

lullaby of mine, for the night

an old black Jesus

on the A to Harlem

-"the doctor’s in the house 
I don’t

want no money from no white

boy I want money from you who

look like me 
that’s right 
I got

a hundred & four dollars

in my pocket from white folk

I don’t have a single penny from you

who look like me that’s why the white

boy was the slave master, cause you just

motherfucking niggers who don’t support

your kind  no respect there I said it,

ain’t it the truth dope I get me some dope

what the fuck you care if I use it for dope

don’t make no differ”

the preacher on to the next car

barely made it

anyone watching?

Tears

anyone

a gang in on 135th

“open window, nigga”

out on 145th

loosen up

hood

somebody’s pissing outside the

building  the fire hydrant is turned loose

ghetto waterfall, boom box pole wired

hip-hop blasting, kids all around,

dice, whispers, white boy

august, saturday night, hot, humid, horrid

            home.

i have to fix this damn light it turns on

whenever the fuck it wants to and ruins

a

   god

         damn

                   perfectly

                                  pretty

                                             abandonment