3.
I wakes up.
They a moment when I'm happy to wake up, to be alive, to get to go and do.
Old Man Joseph can't go and do any more. He told me, "Go and do. You still can. As long as you can."
I smell it. I open my eyes and see it. Jail.
I bemember my situration. I think to hold my position, layin' on my side on the iron plate, my coat folded under my head. If I don't sit up, look about, maybe... this ain't happenin' to me. No fool am I. I know better. But I close my eyes again. I hear other folks movin', most of 'em quiet. One noisy. I know who that is. Andy Rhine. Was in school before I was out. Noisy then. Noisy now. Complainin'.
"Coffee tastes like railroad dirt! This hotdog bun been laid out in the sun since Tu'day. And I think somebody mussa et this hotdog before me!"
One loud laugh; Carl Crepes? I didn't know he was back in town. Went Detroit couple years now.
These white men. I know black men here. They might be 'spliff' laughin', where it slip out, but they quiet. Keep quiet. Know you place, and this ain't it.
I stretch out long on that cold hard metal. Feel good to stretch. I spin my legs off and sit up. Eyes don't want to open, more comfortable closed. Peek. Close. See all I want to. Don't want to. What's to become of me?

Last edited by Gary E. Andrews; 03/09/25 05:15 PM.
There will always be another song to be written. Someone will write it. Why not you? www.garyeandrews.com