Let’s count them:
a junkman and his son
a grinning cruise bartender
and the ghetto family.
Outside my dark apartment, nothing explained my future.
Figures slid through alleys, fearful and feared.
Small boy grows big. Weak, strong.
I danced to the streets until I played them.
Strong, long legs carried me farther faster.
As my eyes blurred with my speed,
I could start to see my grandfathers.
Wise men, with wide noses,
telling me of family,
urging me not to run.
My legs strained to catch them
to hold their brown skin to mine,
to hold wordless counsel.
I watch tv again.
I see the faces
all the same color
as the Jesus on the set.
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