Post by anirbas on Nov 25, 2008 9:58:58 GMT -6
He walked through the door
of the convenience store,
a tall, olive skinned
African American man,
lips moving silently
as a pen across
blank paper.
Behind me,
he took his place
in line, mumbling softly.
At first I thought into a cell
phone or a blue tooth.
Snatches of conversation
reaching my sensitive ears.
"They don' know, they are coming.
But, I do. I do. Ooh, white girl,
with the curly hair, before they get here,
I wanna tap that *ss and you're standing
so god d*mned near. But, I gotta stay strong.
'Cause, they're coming. Some already here,
You might be one' of 'em. Sent to test me..."
Fears rising, I edged a bit closer to the redneck
guy in front of me, that might be concealing a gun,
decked out like a wanna be warrior, in a camoflouge
printed jacket and trousers. And still I could hear
the man behind me, mumbling. Only now,
about the Asian woman at the register,
checking us out.
"Ooh, Jap girl. I'd like to tear
that sh*t up. I'd have you whining
like a whipped pup. But...But...
I gotta stay strong, 'cause
they're coming. Some of 'em,
here already and you could
be one of 'em. You and this
white b*tch might be
in cahoots. Collaboratin'
to steal my boots
and my soul."
The redneck
with the east
Texas twang as loud
as his fashion statement,
moved away from the counter
and I quickly paid for my purchases.
Then, I hurried to my truck, to find
a pen and a scrap of paper,
because oddly, the crazy
man's addled conversation
to himself, sounded
like poetry.
And me,
I'm a so-called poet,
and poets, we'll write
about anything, including
the crazy guy in line
at the convenience store...
of the convenience store,
a tall, olive skinned
African American man,
lips moving silently
as a pen across
blank paper.
Behind me,
he took his place
in line, mumbling softly.
At first I thought into a cell
phone or a blue tooth.
Snatches of conversation
reaching my sensitive ears.
"They don' know, they are coming.
But, I do. I do. Ooh, white girl,
with the curly hair, before they get here,
I wanna tap that *ss and you're standing
so god d*mned near. But, I gotta stay strong.
'Cause, they're coming. Some already here,
You might be one' of 'em. Sent to test me..."
Fears rising, I edged a bit closer to the redneck
guy in front of me, that might be concealing a gun,
decked out like a wanna be warrior, in a camoflouge
printed jacket and trousers. And still I could hear
the man behind me, mumbling. Only now,
about the Asian woman at the register,
checking us out.
"Ooh, Jap girl. I'd like to tear
that sh*t up. I'd have you whining
like a whipped pup. But...But...
I gotta stay strong, 'cause
they're coming. Some of 'em,
here already and you could
be one of 'em. You and this
white b*tch might be
in cahoots. Collaboratin'
to steal my boots
and my soul."
The redneck
with the east
Texas twang as loud
as his fashion statement,
moved away from the counter
and I quickly paid for my purchases.
Then, I hurried to my truck, to find
a pen and a scrap of paper,
because oddly, the crazy
man's addled conversation
to himself, sounded
like poetry.
And me,
I'm a so-called poet,
and poets, we'll write
about anything, including
the crazy guy in line
at the convenience store...
