Garland Lee Thompson Jr.

Her feet leave
walking down the street
up the block
around the corner
She is breathing and walking
past trees past cars
people, dogs, front porches
apartment buildings, Palm trees
italian jewelry stores on a street faraway called Delancey
Her feet dip and step as the world rotates
beneath her 1000 mph
knees bending her to the beat
she hears in her head
that Afro pulse latin groovalicious
funkadelic dichotomy of rhythm
pulsing through air,
virtual and real
She is LCD'd and DVD'd
listening to the MP3 of her future voice
i-podding itself into being right now
She is going beyond Brittany
in a jitney filled with people
going her way and
there are flashes in the pan
stashes for the band
two birds in the hand
migrant workers tending the land
while politician gangsters
run their scams -
Still she is steppin' on
flowing like the Hoover Dam
always lyrical
sharp and quizzical
a kind of nitro-dizzical
who won't take
no for an answer
to the question
she is asking
though she knows
change ain't for those basking
in the limelight
of their own sun
and the Father, Son, the Holy Ghost
are the prayed to Gods
people pray to most
she whispers to herself
as she makes a silent toast
to the gravel voiced cat
in the Army green coat
who says to the counter man
with suspicious eyes,
"Can I get four dollars and
four quarters - change for this five"
maybe he's thinkin' to himself
I'm just tryin' to stay alive
when he says to her
" 'scuse me,
I'm a government employee,
and Green Berets always
sleep good at night."
Then he smiles at her and
takes a hard right
into the rainy gray
monday morning light

and she steps on
the world rotating
a thousand miles per hour
beneath her feet.