Late

Late


 Bad rap other culture other idea not Negro but Red mon on a Saturday today upping the thinking to include wondering not helping making plan of missing ride and moving shelter to the side. It was like this it went like this it came to me like this he walked his hard old walk and neared the bus stop he came to tell me news of some bad kind but nothing neared my heart of it except his incarcerated lady friend eye of course eye did eye felt so bad for that and all eye said is THIS IS A BAD PLACE yes. For that. The Negro came to me from the other side to warn me of the possibility that no bus was forthcoming near me that mabe it was just this Saturday ride that was missing me and so they both walked on. But it gave me the desire to write this song. The Indian had TEN and wanted THIRTY more. The NEGRO had no song. He was the nicer one. He helped me to decide to walk then find my other ride. The Indian felt sorry that no one buys. His stringged beads aside he was taking a loss they were worth much more than TEN but then he must take what he can THESE BEADS THESE BEADS THESE BEADS he said are worth ONEHUNDREAD each string was strung by hand by the lady friend this last part eye surmised not said but strongly was implied. SO you want to be a poetry poet writer. It’s not that hard to write a story why do you want to make them rhyme with special inflections and misspellings it makes the real people whine. Why a poet anyway all the good ones are dead. SO eye walked two long city blocks in the wind but no rain and it was nicer than L.A. is today. Late.