I was a fool

I was a fool
but I was tempted
buy crack
so I got in the car
with the pros
an older white driver
and a young black
both sinister
and they left me
in the Hill district
of Pittsburgh,
a black ghetto.

I stood there
watching people
come and go
until another
young black
approached me
and told me
he had a gat
so I’d better empty
my pockets.

You might as well
kill me, I shouldn’t
be here, I’m just a
dumb cracker ass
trying to get high,
I told him.

When he saw
my bank card
he said, ooh, no,
don’t say that,
you believe in God,

”Oh yeah, sure.”

Good, cause I woulda’
shot your ass if you

700 dollars,
lots of crack,
the house of two junkies,
a white crack addict,
and a black whore
saw me running
down the street
for my life,
to end up 80 more dollars
for an escort to the bridge

I looked up at
the black girl
staring straight ahead.
The only other person
waiting for the bus
Sunday morning,
and said: You know,
I just spent a night
on the Hill…

She kept looking straight
ahead, unphased.

Once home
I scanned all corners
but still didn’t know
how to love my cat.

Published by cracker

I am a 34-year-old poet and a big fan of Ice Cube and Ice T, incredible artists both. I’ve been writing somewhat cantankerous stuff since 1994. My books can be found at online search my name. I like to smoke cigarettes and eat pickled eggs, as well as loving up my wonderful cat and lying in the yard with him while he ‘investigates.’ I am the subject of a new documentary called “half a bee” directed by Tim Busko. I play some songs, read some poems, and monologue spontaneously on various concerns.

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