A pact was made: it was a bond made
By simple men and women living out their days.
Sleepless nights collected in bulges under eyes
The laughter broke too quickly
Exploded too high.
They needed an agreement and a rest
From those that insist.
They knew it was coming, but just
Chose not to see it.
While they sang folk songs from old soul sounds
The clouds descended in June and put down roots.
He sat down on Curtis and refused to move.
Joints grown weak, now old in the heart,
Spilled too much blood to make a profit.
While he sang folk songs from old soul sounds
She had the look of an untrained surgeon:
Jack-knifed and urgent.
The rain at Davis came down in sheets and rows
And it landed in a bedroom and curled round some toes.
That was, until she pulled her surgeon curtains closed.
While she sang folk songs from old soul sounds
We are careless with our love:
We are the applause that makes your
Rib cage rattle.
The catalyst of all the dangerous
The bones of the city that loves us.
Songs and souls and sounds that sing:
We all have the look of an unchecked mobSweeping up the unfortunate and awed.