Do the Right Thing

Spike Lee is so small I didn't even
see him at first, surrounded

by Black Expo goers like a gumdrop
in a fist. When I asked him to sign

my "Free South Africa" t-shirt,
he said, You didn't buy that at this

booth. Fresh off seeing Do the Right
Thing, I crowed: "What's that got

to do with your movies?" His fans
laughed, so he edited me like my name

was Pino: Why you care? You
ain't even black. Someone behind

me said, Damn, Spike. That ain't
right. But Spike's shamed scribble

on my t-shirt didn't change the missed
free throw feeling in my chest.

Flight Reflex

It must be winter in this part of Texas
because the grackles are posse-d up.
They toupee rooftops and wires.
They ornament trees and anything
else with room and resilience
for beak and claw. Anything
that doesn't move much.

And always, that damn epistle
of chalk and fingernail.
                                 And always,
grackles signify the need for unity
in Texas, whether bird, black, or both.

It must be winter because it feels
like spring and the man-sized bugs
have split for wherever bugs go
because of the grackles.
Like urban flight, only not, and the trees
naturally crooked for hanging
hang just a little lower, their leaves
chilling in the surplus cusp of winter.