Almost Downtown
Some game show's on. I'm notPaying attention. I feel like a
Sandwich. There's nothing to eat.
Out the window, not too far,
Are shiny glass buildings
With white people in them,
And money, and food, where
The only black figures are
Waiters and cops, and, if I
Tried to enter one, women
Would stare. The cops would
Come up and start asking me
Questions. If I said I'd come
For a job or a sandwich,
They'd tell me, “We're onto
Your game.”
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 35 times
Written on 2013-08-18 at 13:11
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