I made a confused turn into a street that shall remain nameless
Normally they tell you don’t drive there
in the day time
I drive slow taking in the scenes
woman on corner baby in arms dancing
Solemnly
Women huddled around trays of snacks and knick knacks
Poverty comforts
Cigarette booze crack weed mints
Orange objects in a bag to be eaten
I drive slow watching out
And them watching back at me
Some delighted
Some horrified
Loud music is screaming from a box next to the poverty comforts
Some wave some mumble
Some should pleasantries
Off to the side
A Bevy o crack heads dancing to shaggy scent of a woman
A few more cocaine floating in their veins
Lost in their little heaven on earth
One entertains himself
Head buried deep in a half five gallon bottle
a few more sleep gently
Eyes wide open staring out
Looking beyond me
Through me
And up the heavens talking to god
And the neighbor next door
Who is also talking to god and not listening
Neither seems to notice
And not that it matters
Everyone seemed happy
Dancers and the ones talking to god
Poverty is violence
sometimes dancing to a sound track
Of a popular hit song
And it’s when they’re most free
You find them slipping deeper into bondage
Dancing
Praying
Shouting
Celebrating in the streets
Chronicling good life 2018
Be free
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