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(Down These Mean Streets, by Piri Thomas)
.................YEE-AH! Wanna know how many times I've stood on a rooftop and yelled out to anybody:|
"Hey, World--here I am. Hallo, World--this is Piri. That's me.
"I wanna tell ya I'm here, you bunch of mother-jumpers--I'm here, and I want recognition, whatever that mudder-fuckin' word means."
Man! How many times have I stood on the rooftop of my broken-down building at night and watched the bulb-lit world below.
Like somehow it's different at night, this my Harlem.
There ain't no bright sunlight to reveal the stark naked truth of garbage-lepered streets.
Gone is the drabness and hurt, covered by a friendly night.
It makes clean the dirty-faced kids.
This is a bright mundo, my streets, my barrio de noche,
YEE-AH! I feel like part of the shadows that make company for me in this warm amigo darkness.
I am "My Majesty Piri Thomas," with a high on anything and like a stoned king, I gotta survey my kingdom.
I got a feeling of aloneness and a bitterness that's growing and growing