the fire this time

-"in the end, the one who despises others, truly despises himself."
james baldwin

in the cranky, chittering chillsleep 
of yestereve,

you starred
in a fartoolong dreamstrip

of irrepressible horror:

bullethole skulls, sherm-shackled sistas,

cape-thin tenement windows reflecting

pools of discordant tears, desperate

clockers wrapped in pig-lights, their

even less-fortunate counterparts traced

in elementary school chalk.  vaque talk

of formless revolution on cramped shotgun

porches, desolate ebony hookers giving

the finger to the mocking moon, hints

of deserved liquor-lotto store takeovers,

capsized b-boys trying to slam home

a winning rhyme.

and soon, everywhere,

the fire this time

the fire this time

the fire this time.

in the clattering, corrosive chillsleep 
of yestereve,

you starred

in a fartoolong dreamstrip

of irrepressible horror:

prodigal papas, overtoiled uncles,

shit-fanged landlords retaining

piles of unpaid slavemaster debts,

distraught fried chicken joint tellers

shot over a few dead krakas, their spared

comrades spread-eagled atop a plateau

of sweat-rimmed tile.  idle talk of potential

business enterprises on ghost-town

basketball courts, ruthless chiefly pimps

baring fool’s gold incisors at the laughing sun,

notions of overdue assaults on the local pork chop

station, gangbanger raphael’s 
painting wallsurface murals 

just because it’s a crime.

and soon, everywhere,

the fire this time

the fire this time

the fire this time.