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Sunday, February 19, 2012

Dirtside Joe Lucky

Downtown dirtside,
Hip-hop curb girls
And do-rag daddies
Slide by crane-thin,
In knee popping struts.

That veteran Joe Bar
Beats out his drum solo,
For nobody, on the corner
Of East Tenth and Nowhere.

He plays the stop sign
Every seventh day,
Passing time for
The methadone to open;
Gonna cop them free rides now.

Calcified suits slide by
Firmly encased in
Importance, too busy
for them panhandling fools.

Bangers smiling with
Crocodile teeth
Funky pseudo-friendships,
Frozen in fresco
Under the steely law of street.

Sleek-nosed blue Ford,
Here come the man,
Cruising by jagged time,
Infecting locals with
Lockjaw and super glue smiles.

Them blue boys
They glare at Joe
Interceptor snarling low,
But he plays on
Lost in the curl of back street.

Joe lucky like that,
Got nothing to lose.