tenderloin blues

the smell of urine mixed with medicinal marijuana

permeates through the air as i walk past a stoop filled with

some poor soulless soul's worldly possessions

old newspapers blowing in the wind

flashing yellow lights and the constant hum of

street sweepers echo down the block where the

young blinged out thugs hold court on the corner with hoes

tricks from downtown roll by as

my chucks stroll down Eddy St toward Market

Obama posters in boarded up windows with For Lease signs

ghetto store owners spray down sidewalks washing down amorality with

syringes, balloons, and used condoms underfoot like

fall leaves in Vermont but we are far from there

and gnarled tooth crackheads will never see those

vivid colors until the Afterlife

there is no recession here or bail out or public option in

the ghetto business is booming

time is measured by space between fixes and

i see all this on my way to find work but don't have time to

feel bad because i have problems of my own