because you ain't got to be black
to be seeking a better set of circumstances

when dawn comes
dragging sun,
upward i fall
taking hold of the precarious
hand holds
that a new day invents
can't see through
anyone else's eyes
until after noon,
don't want to
pay for this
sugared blackness
of coffee
with pennies,
but I do
and I've fell
into ritual of walking
the path
in concentric circles
I've tattooed the earth
with my year old boots,
and the grass still refuses
to give up trying
and by twilight,
I know who I am
sometimes it's a dizzy world,
and sometimes my skin adheres
to muscles reacts on instinct
it's often that I'm so tarred and
feathered with advice,
so sticky with slogans and
opinions,
that one storm won't
clean me,
and I have to call another
but this time I'm wide of eyes
and focused,
eight o clock
knocked itself out
on her door
when I arrived
took her hand,
and spun her around and around
(she likes being dizzied)
and out the door we go,
let her hand fall to her side,
a chill of warmth leaving
and kissed her goodnight
as soon as it began
punched my way into
work a little later
daydreamed thirdshift daydreams
of everyone happy
and dancing
in concentric circles
under the sun
and punched my way out
with the birdsong beginning
smoked a cigarette
and watched the rising,
with such a tired feeling