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The Tombs

To hear the poet read "The Tombs..." click here. [818k AIFF file] *

I'll give Cotto the stick of pot, tomorrow, Why not, least I can do, may be his last-- With the chair waiting for him. Few more days and we'll get shipped to upstate-- To the big house. Hey, jerko, I thought you were gonna keep your mind blank. Uh, uh, changed my mind, gotta think on, Nothing else shakin', pleasure's all mine. Jenny, baby, wait for me. Don't wait, wait--don't wait, wait-- wait. Once a tiempo ago, I was a little kid with streamy tears washing down my dark face. Now I am big and the dark face mood is still here. Where are the tears? I dug myself the other day, I looked out beyond and there was Harlem and a place called El Barrio--and running through it Is a street called my home. And I closed my eyes real tight, and from the eighth floor of the tombs-- I saw the bulbs, the guys, the broads, our debs, I saw my people and they remembered me, And they were talking about me and how I got busted-- I heard them speak of my mucho corazón, And I was proud of my rep. I saw the big guys' faces, and envy was there at my feet-- I had lit up a cop--I saw much time. I heard my name mentioned many times, And I was glad--I was somebody, Who the fuck cares what it cost?