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.