The Ghetto Lives Bicentennial 1976

summertime dusk the ghetto lives
sounds that transcend the workday beat
boom box claxoning the latest tunes
the slick and hip under the moon
a dance step by a sly child
hand shakes all around and wide brim smiles
a collaboration of five digits and a palm
of respect, no debt
all bullshit aside

a confusing ritual, the outsider would not dare,
cross the line into this fare
of smoking guns, and jive talking girls
brothers in shadow stripes, playboys, and curls
young hip cats running with hot metal tools
bags filled with ice and white colored jewels

and some drank beer in north central park
smoked a few blunts until it was dark
everyone trying to be cooler than cool
sometimes one mainlined and played the fool

and we took our debs from the stoop to the view
up on the roof laid a line or two
pumped some juice and rock and roll
played the game for some tootsie roll

to escape the life in the arms of another
kept it simple away from the others
until it was time to come down again

we playing the roles of the street
of cool and jive of the city fly,
with a nickel, a dime, or a quarter
to buy, a bag or two for a buzz and that beat,
on the stoop at 110th street

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