A Poem from Eric King
“I can still see it there, under the haze of the street light,
No one in the world but me and this street sign,
Been walking so long my feet got engaged to the pavement,
My rubbery legs must stop. I am sleeping at 31st & Charolette,
It’s too perfect for a roof. I’ll wear the stars as a blanket,
Brown eyes heavier than her words, I shoulda been stronger,
All I need is one good sleep, it can’t hurt forever,
Two blocks down the road the now or later black power memorial
two shots up the road, we’ll be having another funeral
Sirens sing me to sleep. I have nothing to be robbed of,
In the morning I’ll be back where I god damn started comrades
only to have ice to eat, I’m anxious enough & too skinny, feeling starving & weak. Will try the market dumpster this evening
cops half when they drive past, “damn hobo drunkard”
I know if I was black I’d probably exist no longer.
Guess I could try the collective. Worth a shot I reckon they still
haven’t forgiven me for trying to be Texan.
My legs are still but my mind is a rollar coaster in motion,
Could try the eat spot they never mind seeing me coming,
Tonight is nice to reconnect with the gravel that holds me,
I let someone into deep despite everything my ethics told me,
Charolette was my grandmothers name, oh how she’d scold me
I’ll box with the shadows until I beat down the memory,
My life is an explosion in reverse, some how that’s soothing.”
-Eric King (V) (///) (A)