Free Street Love by Walter Dean Myers

KEVIN and DAMIEN
    “Yo, Damien, how you read Sledge?
    Is he just about being a fool
    Or do you think that his brain
    Is twisted enough to find something
    Cool in that lip and drip world he’s sliming In?”
    “Sniff the hood, my man,” Damien said. “The bad with the
    Good. Some guys are banking on their reach
    Going for the stars, scoping on the great,
    Some see they can’t reach and all they got is hate
    To lift them from misery of the day and there’s
    Nothing you can say if their eyes don’t see
    The prize the way you do. That’s the hood, bro,
    That’s the way it flows and it don’t make
    No never mind if you find yourself
    Off the glory ride and slipping with the tide
    Like Sledge. Hate is what the man
    Got and if it’s not boss he’s got to toss it
    Anyway. This is a concrete Apple.”
    “Damien, so are you saying
    You’re ready to fly?
    Cop some getaway like all the other sleek
    Birds winging through distant trees with just
    An occasional peek
    Now and then and a slanted rap about
    Old school memories?”
    “Who knows, man?” Damien said, checking out a tall
    Brother working on his gangster lean.
    “You’re talking about
    What tomorrow will bring, and what tune the hood will
    Sing. You’re talking and I’m listening, but
    There’s no clear message glistening on my Horizon.”
    “Yo, you’re sliding deep but my brain is still
    Creeping on the surface,” Kevin said. “Break it on
    Down or push it on. It don’t make no never mind.”
    “My moms was asking me to do the same layout
    But that’s all played out when you don’t
    Know which way the wind is blowing
    Or which way you’re supposed to be going
    My folks are laying lines on me like
    They’ve written out the part and all
    I got to do is get to a place called Start
    And follow the road to fame and glory—
    A PhD in mucho buckology
    Two point five kids and a quick apology
    To the starving folks in East Ain’tGotNothingVille
    While I look down from Sugar Hill and tell
    Myself how phat my program is.”
    “Sounds righteous, my brother,
    Best listen to your mother
    Now what I need is for you to feed
    Me the name of the female lead
    Is the right chick a light chick?
    Some straight-haired honey
    With a little money and a skinny little nose
    Pointing away from her toes?
    Or could it really be a girl with some kink to her curl?
    A midnight mama with some snap and some sway
    Like that treetop sister ’cross the way
    Walking like the Queen of the Avenue
    Could she interest a lord like you?”
    Damien looked, he had seen her before
    He knew her name, but not much more
    “Yeah, I see her,” he said. “She’s the quiet kind
    I don’t know her game, or what’s in her mind.”
    “And if you found her in your net,” Kevin asked,
    “What then? Would you throw her back?
    Or could she be a midday snack?”
    “Yo, Kevin, you know I have a plan
    And you know I have Roxanne. I’m not into
    Fast foods or the easy line
    Although I have to admit the lady’s
    Fine as she needs to be but can
    She satisfy the brain or the heart
    I don’t know.”
    “Damien, Main Man, that girl might not satisfy
    Your brain or your heart,” Kevin said. “But, Lord knows,
    There are parts of me that find her
    Delightful. We should catch
    Her and offer her our sweet company.”
    “No,” Damien said. “She might be light, I haven’t
    Spoken more than a word or two with her. But
    She walks darkly, as if her mind weighs down
    Her steps.
    When we’ve spoken it was just puffs of air
    Syllables that weren’t there
    When we said them and left nothing
    On the memory.
    I don’t know what she thinks
    Of if she thinks of anything so profound
    That it would interest me, and I’m not a snob
    But she’s a depth I have not sounded.
    I wonder what a movie of her life would be
    What images come to fill the screens
    Of her mind?”

The BEAUTY
    My head is filled with images as I stumble,
    Heavy-footed through this endless day.
    Terrible images of my mother’s