Wednesday, November 20, 2013

A poem a day for 2013 - day 323 - 210 Crenshaw north

The crying baby in the front
The crowd standing in the isle
Smell of chicken, butter, bread
Raindrops fall easy on the windows
The man across the isle screaming jibberish to the moon
No one will sit next to you if you scream random, consistent jibberish

The screaming baby in the front
"Move back! Move back!" The driver yells
The teens kissing
I remember kissing
Soft and silk kisses
To be a teenager kissing on the bus

The smelly old lady gets off
The man with one shoe
Incense, Lakers t-shirts and bean pie for sale on the corner
Gas is $3.89

The yelling baby in the front
The yelling baby
The fidgeting baby in the front

"A black man can't catch a break!
Gon' work a muthafucka til he die!
All these people in this big ole world
All this shit goin' on"
Jibber jibber
Jibber jibber
He has drumsticks
Who gave him drumsticks
Clack clack
Clack clack
Clack clack
Clack clack

I am no better
I am the woman under the hat
Bell bottoms and KSwiss sneaks
Do not trust a woman wearing KSwiss sneaks in 2013

The screaming baby in the front
The screaming baby in the front

The kissing teens get off
The blueblack man gets on
With locks to the floor
I want to know him
I want to write his story
I want to paint his picture
I want to touch his smooth skin
He looks soft and strong as a red candle to Ogun

Suddenly the jibber man is quiet
The screaming baby in the front

The check cashing place is still open
Taco Bell
The pawn shop
The screaming baby in the front

Starbucks is crowded tonight
The one just before Rodeo
Rodeo not Rodeo like Ro-day-o
Rodeo and Rodeo like Ro-day-o never cross
Never connect
Never look each other in the face and say let me love you
Let me kiss you like sun ray

The screaming baby

1 comment:

  1. You're so right. People who don't ride the buses are missing so much of the texture of daily life in the city