Two blocks into Harlem.  White shirts,

black ties, flowered dresses, patent

leather shoes, tattoos and beautiful hair;

the streets are always alive.


The beat mixes up.  The man

with a full beard smiles, exposing

a picket fence for teeth.  Conga drums

call out the dance in people.  Red and purple

cotton hats jive like released shadows.

Tired feet get the sleep slapped out of them.

A guitar strings out a solo,

drawing an applause from a child.


A warm unexpected rain washes everything

down.  Clouds soon part.  The city

begins again.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s