Tiny and me
We gettin off the airplane
Long walk, tarmac
Pickin up our stuff again
Small cops, big heads
Guns cocked, all prepped
We move, we walk
Push our shit straight ahead
“Look out kid,”
the singing preacher said
with a borrowed drawl he picked up
when he was still a Zimmerman
Big hut, white doors
He polishing the wood floor
Hair all beehive
he hardly had it did in time
Tiny scoots right off home
Me and Bee smokin on
Lick along, rolling
Then he cookin up, forest things
“Get that mush
down my neck!”
Well, he says it so polite that
I barely stop to check it’s right
Tall men, they fast asleep
Beehive lookin moss green
Face clean, bow-tie neat
My airplane sailed so smoothly in
We cookin up things tonight
Well, we cookin up dreams
We makin all the plans
and then we dictate what they mean
“Let’s go off,
some darker place,”
Bee and me, eyes closed
No covers on them windows
