An Honest Review

I was talking to this
Black brother
Not long ago

He was the maintenance
Man in an apartment

He was working in the
Trash compactor room
And he had a radio playing
In the corner

There was much good
Shit coming out
Of that radio

It was like a soundtrack
Of my life, a score
Of ups and downs and missteps
And misfires and things that
Didn’t quite make the highlight

And the maintenance guy
Spoke about the old days
Which had been his young days
And somehow that garbage room
Became the church I’d been
Searching for

And all was cool

So I wrote an article
About my experience
Talking to the man
And sharing his music

And one day the
Man read it

I ran into him
The other day
And he said:

“Hey, you know
That shit you
Wrote was some
Ok shit

But you got
Some stuff

I don’t got
No chipped tooth
And I ain’t from
Louisiana, I’m
From Oakland

And what’s that
Shit about the story
Of my life written on
My black skin?

The only thing
On my skin is
Ash and I use lotion
To take care of it”

The man spoke
a little while
Longer before leaving me
With the words:

“That shit you wrote
was ok but i cudda
wrote some better
shit than that”

He took out
His small bottle
Of lotion

put some

massaged it

© 2014 Tony Robles


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