upon arriving at los angeles international airport
in 73
with my crockasack platforms and very hip bellbottoms
I saw my first palm tree
and said
take me to watts
the bmw isn’t hip yet, maybe I can get some pussy
driving down century blvd in my brotherinlaw’s
air-conditioned
vw bug
I bought my first joint in la
on the corner of century and western
what a drag
there’s a macdonalds there now and all you can get is herpes
turning south on western
we head for gardena
the home of the eternal black middle class
mixed in with a little asian
as we pull into the driveway
of this well manicured
black middle class
dwelling
I disembark from the air-conditioned bug
and who should greet me at the door but my sister
holding the album
bitches brew by miles davis
and on the cover is a mountain of cocaine
it’s still 73
no crack for me
I’m still digging on the landscape
haven’t experienced racism yet
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