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75 Poems in Everyday Places Your story told, your poem made, I,scavenger poet, swoop and pick at the living thing, to make my own feast of metaphor, gourmet of irony. He said those words, spat them out in my face: “Not as long as i live will i see no colored child riding a school bus.” roosevelt looking down like God almighty, and the flag curled in the corner. Well, he never saw them, those colored children climbing onto the yellow bus books in hand, and riding, but someone whispered it in his ear while he stared into the black. 76 My mother said never rejoice in the infirmities of others; sometimes i let my mother down and commit sins of the soul. i am singing this song for him and dancing on his grave: “What you wish for, that’s what you’re gonna get.” ...

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