Tell ‘em how it be, C.
The man is black.
I’ve no problem saying such a thing.
Play me something funky and
He does. This kid never asks us for
Anything. Just to bend our ears---
I’ve heard his poetry and yes, we’re
Doing this now. He’s guilty about looking
And sounding like a homeless white man. Not
Homeless, but that hair. . . He’s got handsome
Brows and a silly grin. Poor kid.
He’s going to explode like a dream
Deferred.
Tell ‘em how it be, C.
This man is black and he’s proud.
Now play me something funky, E.
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