Poem

Lorain Ohio,

1940 something,

living in an old pizza parlor,

seeing happy white people walk by through the big window,

sleeping in a small compartment or near a stove,

eating in the same room,

wanting some other place instead of this one,

but this is all you can afford,

mostly depression and anger,

happiness comes by from time to time,

disappointed because you can't get whatever you want,

only what you need,

judging everyone by what you see,

not whats inside,

wanting blue eyes like Shirley Temple,

but forever you are black