My Fair Share
My Fair Share
Readers are falling from the sky like dimes
turning on stops
pennies from heaven
paid for the first round of Bohemians’
a lost generation in those lost bars in the dark
nickels ain’t worth a dime
but the Beats came cheap to
Carroll Bernstein Hank.
Remembering stories of Rockefeller handing out new dimes
by the fistful but everybody was hungry in the new deal
scared of their father’s eyes with their mothers calm…
And I’m riding on the 11:45 Bart
heading to Fog City to hone
my craft with a witchy little woman
cut from the same cloth that keeps me burning
deep into the next line
when a black teen bellows from the hollowness
about how a Mother Fucker can head the wrong way
Son, is there any other way?
Calm as a Hindu monkey
I sweat out the 14 minutes 48 years 15 seconds
ready to head the right way
ready to get pummeled and pelted with quarters
from moon crows with black eyes
and they all know that I’m
ready to make change.
