The Sculptor and the Musician (I)

I see you everywhere: on buses, on the dock,
in the streets, around the clock
some faces old, some young, some strung out
eyes weighted with wondering
still curious, saving energy
for an honest smile
eyes pierce me saying "I have the answer
everybody wants."
energy saved for smiling
eyes pierce secretly, with the answer
everybody wants
died for pride-eyes
they speak: "I knew what there was to know
before I got my 3rd pair of shoes."
The heroin kicked in, buddies said,
"we saw you on t.v., man what ya here for,
shootin’ up, man, you had it all.
You don’t belong here
don’t be burglarizing, get your ass back to
Societeeee man! Your Art, ain’t some story you made up, how
many time you think the brass ring gonna ring for ya
You got one merryGO-round.

"I can quit this shit anytime.
But it was all a
bummer, man.
People on the top weren’t
no better’n the people in the gutter, WORSE!
Money, all that shit, don’t do nothin,
lying cheats and rich bitch whores
whose Mamas never looked behind restaurant
dumpsters to feed eight kids.
My mother had more style on 7th Street, Oakland
than any bitches I seen
in the richest part of New York City."

Tomorrow, I might just quit --
I feel good doin’ my art
it's a high,
but not quite as good as the best luver

© Dorothy Jesse Beagle

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Copyright 2002 Inter-Relations
Last modified March 3, 2002