Wasn't going to sit in the back
because she was black no more
wanted to sit in the front
like whites and that's for sure
as being in the same row (forget 'Jim Crow')
in fact her constitutional right
made them equal but frowned upon
looked down on by the white
while heading home after school
Claudette Colvin (born 1939) was on her way
from segregated Booker T. Washington High
March 2nd 1955 an auspicious day
when by the Highland Gardens bus driver
Robert W. Cleere she was sorely tested
then by two policemen handcuffed
tho' no laws were broken she was arrested
but discriminated against
later by the N.A.A.C.P.
as unmarried and pregnant at fifteen in Alabama
their poster child she could not be
but it was the start of segregation's end
on the Montgomery bus 'cross town
by this brave outspoken student
who stood up for her rights by sitting down
The Hudson River stretches wide
From Jersey to the far west side.
The east, though, is where I reside
So I don’t see it much.
It’s quite majestic, driving past
And on the highway, going fast,
I try to conjure up the past
When locals spoke in Dutch.
‘Cross town, another river flows,
Much narrower and, I suppose,
Some Germans came because that shows
In restaurants and such.
Between the rivers, New York grew
And other cultures added to
The melting pot, which no one knew
Would suffer Ice’s clutch.
Try not to get caught in a sooty coal scuttle
Or trying to rip off your local cross-town shuttle,
Be especially careful to remove your shoes
Before getting into your best friend’s canoes.
Never talk out of turn in a dim lecture hall
Or declare your intentions right after a fall,
Nothing is so special as finding a gum wrapper
Or spending an afternoon with a Twenties’ flapper.
Pay extra attention to your barbershop’s rules
Lest you be clipped bald with his rusty tools,
Take notice of the colors on the roulette wheel
Better to take a first-base than a third-base steal.
Last, but not least, remember to remove your hat
Before jumping into a pool all covered in fat,
Should you forget, don’t hang around taking blame
For you may be the first one to go up in a flame!
written August 11, 2021
Her face
Her haunting eyes
The luscious red lips...
Shuffling midst leaves between his feet
Meandering emotions of desire
A fog in his head, swimming upstream
Then lifting, replaced by the pure heat of fire
Her soft auburn hair
The slope of her shoulders
The sway of her hips and her waist...
He plots his next move midst mounting fear
Would he ever whisper his passion in her ear
The rain poured down now, soaking his clothes
He'd ring her doorbell, give her that rose
Aloft in a mist
Lighter than air
A vision, enticing and fair...
He'd purchased the flower, shaved and showered
Hustled cross town, though late was the hour
Finger poised on her doorbell, his decision unmade ~
At the sight of two silhouettes intertwined on her shade
Jesus at the Traffic Light
By David J Walker
It turns out that my
Atheists friends were all wrong
Jesus is real
And he hangs around
on a cross-town traffic light
Over the bricks laid by prisoners
In the streets of our long-ago downtown
Watching the Salvation Army
Marching the hungry children
Stopping for a taste of his blood
And crumbs of bread from his beard
Feed my sheep he said
Feed my sheep he pled
The light changed and
He was gone
Feed My Sheep He Pled
By David J Walker
It turns out that my
Atheists friends were all wrong
Jesus is real
And he hangs around
on a cross-town traffic light
Over the bricks laid by prisoners
In the streets of our long ago downtown
Watching the Salvation Army
Marching the hungry children
Stopping for a taste of his blood
And beard from his beard
Feed my sheep he said
Feed my sheep he pled
The light changed and
He was gone
There was once a lady named Babs Bower
Who lived 'cross town on a street called Tower
She could talk you to death
Not coming up for breath
Gabbed with gusts up to ninety miles per hour
Jimi was crazy in his days of purple haze
Getting tossed with the sauce
As a mouse is stuck in its maze
Had screaming sounds with his guitar
He was a shooting star
Never will there ever be a man quite like Jimi
He was willing to achieve
With hey Joe where you going with that gun in your hand
I hope society today will live to understand
Playing his guitar with his tongue
This may have frightened a tender hearted nun but it was all in fun
Cross town traffic was fantastic
He had a heart of gold
To bad he had to die
Jimi was the man with plan
Hopefully someday everyone will understand ?
It was gettin' late,
bot dere was one ting, I've been wantin ta see
Is whot ever 'appened to Wee Luck McGee
So by nature I traveled, to the pub way 'cross town
pulled up a stool and laid me coins down
I first had a pint, then another to follow
Und just a wee whiskey, barely a swallow
When I 'eard a door slam, and in pops McGee
Walkin' and wavein' his way right to me
"McGee you old sod, where've you been" I inquired
"Spendin' me nites filled with lust and desire"
McGee then sat down on the stool to me right
Popped in a smoke and asked for a light
"You dog" I declared, I was surely amazed
A man of his age should surely be praised
Dat's wen 'E produced two pills from 'is coat
And said pay attention you'll want to take note
I first take Vigara as part of me scheme
Den an Ambien to meet, the girl of me dreams
as they go on
some on cell phone
you coul hear the tone
as in ring some had a ping
it was pack thats a fact
some people fess
that
CROSS TOWN BUS
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