I’ll never forget the look of desperation on this Black man
Knuckles wrinkled
Face tired with unkept stubble
A chipped tooth visible when he smiles
If he smiles
This one forever gazed with a daring fierceness
If they know he means business they’ll leave him alone
The cops still stop him
The blonde still ushers her son in the opposite direction
He is hungry, but not for privileged children
He is craving the feast of ascertained freedom
As the latest guru, tells him he is impaired by the tendrils of spiritual poverty
It's just poverty...and a world that heralds men of his contrast
He's another Black man beaten down by the rain
And people dare ask him why he is wet?
He sweats
Wiping his brow and waving at the guitarist on the corner of 3rd
A man of the hardened people
Dwellers of caves and intricately crafted hideaways
Places where you can be dangerous and brilliant simultaneously
Behind layers of concrete he is Adonis
Raw power
Not the wraith of someone else’s narrative
Or fowl needing to be saved
He is what cracks look like when they’ve been patched too many times.
Very prolific indeed.