I did like living in Kansas City to some extent, but not a lot.
The barbecue was good, of course. I liked the savage
Summer heat, the fine soul music the black station played
Until hip-hop became the thing. I liked living two blocks
Away from the line, so well-defined as the Berlin Wall, which
Separates the blacks and whites (the street's named
Troost, if you have to know), but the air of racism wore me
Down. White kids don't go to the public schools. Ours did.
As a result, I learned that the teachers were meaner,
Quicker to discipline kids who were black. The cops,
Of course, were everywhere, sullen, violent, ready to strike,
On the other side of the border line. I like things better
In Omaha, though I shouldn't. The racism's also here.
It's just that, since there are fewer blacks, disdain for them
Is less overt. Still, the cops go cruising, like hammerhead
Sharks, through the neighborhoods that nice white people
Are told to avoid. The wife wants to drive back to Kansas City
Tomorrow. I'm not sure why she does, bars and museums,
People we know? I don't think that I'll find it so pleasant as
Omaha, but I may like it to some extent.