blues for the B-boys

stout Sheldon & slender Shelby
(aka “Hardcore” & “Sex Me”)
brothers in blood.
eclectic enigmas symbiotically connected
by the twin children of crack & crime
always doin’ or markin’ time.

& the baby of the bunch
mah nigga Big Bang
his pants always hang
below the crack of his ass
& his voice is strident, like breaking glass.

psychically frail Frederick (aka “Fat Al”)
frowns frightfully,
a front for his fearfulness at
being encircled by communal homicide
always eating, a slow-motion suicide.

from a loneliness that none will admit
they’ve allowed her admittance into their clique
they are both furious & curious:
cuz she can’t be described or classified as a
“bitch” “hoe” or “hood rat”
so they wonder how she escaped that.

& she knows she can’t reach them:
they are not seduced by the syllables of Shelley,
& they are bemused by her belief that
In education lies salvation,
although they all grudgingly agree that
“Etheridge Knight is aw-ight.”

so she subtly tries to teach them
(without seeming to do so)
transforming the essays of Malcolm into rap,
explaining the origins of the dap,
there are trips to the museum & the beach, where,
sadly, she discovers none of them can swim.

they would drown in such deep water
& she cannot tell them they are drowning on dry land
(not while Bang holds that nina in his hand)
so she hides her fears
endlessly plays Tupac’s So Many Tears,
& together they wait for The Man.

copyright © 2007 KPMCL