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You walk into
a new bookstore
because you love books. You love
sports too but there’s no game like
writing. Oh, but you never learned
to dribble. The critics call you Little
League. Now you walk to the poetry
section and there’s Maya Angelou’s
books, all of them. On a lower shelf
you find the letter M. Your books
should be here, maybe next to Madhubuti
or not far from Milton. You’re not here
and you’re not there. You look for ME.
That begins with M doesn’t it?
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Sometimes I try to
remind folks that Money,
Mississippi was a jail too.
Hoods come in all sizes.
I look at the pictures in this book
and see myself
whistling at the lady guard
who gives the thumbs up.
Life is an open coffin
when we live with our eyes closed. |
