after a night like thatso he went to work,
a man rises alone
6 am, 6 30
nothing in the room but a matress and a backpack
in that backpack a computer
on that computer a book
the city only rising and still it's fearsome
nice empty offices at 7.30am
but at 12.30 am, jill wants the music turned down
he's totin' his bedroll round the mission
leo and he speak over sleepin' conditions,
like bein' in the hospital ain't all bad -
you get three hots and a cot.
my bedroll like a jail bracelet
a homeless sympathy sign
but young people in groups
and well dressed white men
there are predators
and then there's black people on the screen
black people dancing and singing and talking to white people with cameras
and art gallery chicks
damn, if I got all o' dem cosmic beeches hole up somewhere togithah, they'd be some major mojo flyin' around the place.
I don't know where I want to be then.
as for this return
to a life I can appreciate
fall asleep on a bare matress and blanket
after typing thought
wake up, type thought.