"Ungodly Apartment Building"
I wait on the stoop of a Sunday morning
and never once seen nobody slicked up
like Uncle Jake used to be or any lady
all fancy with a hat. Why I couldn’t
count one cherry nor bird to eat it
just these woolies come down over
their prissy pink ears and my guess
is not a one was headed up
to the Baptists nor the Catholics neither.
Lil’ Tim had a whistle and sometimes
he’d join me and give ‘er a blow
when the rouged-up frillies
from Apartment 2-B come draggin’
out ‘bout ten. Mama wouldn’t
say but I knew they weren’t telling
nursery rhymes to rich Mr. Black.
That Tim, even he didn’t believe
in Jesus so at night ‘fore I settled
right fine in bed, I prayed hard
that those fancy ladies would see the light
and now I had to add Tim too.
© 2007 Teresa White
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