OYE MUNDO / sometimes

sometimes <(span class="indent8"/> when the night air feels chévere!
) when i can hear the real sound
of el barrio
on la conga y timbales
coke bottles
& garbage can tops

when i can feel
& reallyreally touch
la música Latina / africana

& the fingerpoppin' soul
emergin from tears / sweet tears of laughter

& i can feel
a conglomeration of vibrations /
heat waves
body waves
people waves
of real gente
/ & i feel gooooooood

when i can taste the rare culture
of cuchifritos y lechón
chitterlins & black-eyed peas
& corn bread

& la pompa is open
& cooooooools the hot tar
of summer heated streets
where children play
kick-the-can (& sirens
cannot be heard)
/ sometimes
sometimes
when the last of the ghetto poets

writes of flowers
growin in gutters / & i know it's real
/ sometimes

sometimes / sometimes
when i can almost hear / being echoed back
an answer
to my ghetto cry

sometimes / sometimes
i run up the fire escape / not to escape
& climb on the roof
& stand on the ledge
& look down
& yell out
to the midnight world
below
above
around
within :

OYE MUNDO Tú ERES BONITO!!!

& i forget about the junkies
on the stoop.