GHETTO CONVERSATIONS
From the concrete floors covered in bleached tile,
And the stuccoed walls decorated ghetto style.
You know, T-shirt painted, Home Interiored back.
....signs that the resident is proudly Black.
From the twenty year old freshly painted Caprice,
(once driven by “The Man”, you know, the police).
From the phat Benzo sporting Yokohama fifteens,
(proof that the driver is a “man of means”).
From the “strawberries” and “cherries” hanging on
this corner and the next,
selling their souls…
their bodies…
their sex.
For that mean little rock, that boy, or that girl,
To forget, for a minute, the troubles of this world.
From around the tables jammed into project kitchens,
Floating on aromatic winds that carry the scent of fried chicken,
Accompanied by some juicier meat,
(the kind that you find along urban streets),
Come the stories, the lies, the truths…revelations.
The flow from the ghetto known as ghetto conversations.
