In basements atticsalleyways and tentsfugitive slaves poetsand griots discardedfetusesSeminoles from Songhay vodunqueens—all in drag, hitchingdodging state troopers behind shades searching forsafe housesuptight but cool:the tamthe aviator framethe propped cigarette andsinging:‘I was born in Georgia.My ways are underground. If youmistreat me,I’ll hunt you like a hound.’Lack of money produces atavism.But don’t be taken in your sleep now.Call your assassin’s name now.Leave signs of struggle. Leavesigns of triumph.And runcept don’t stop in Chicagoto give yourself up to a pimp. Leavesigns.And don’t be taken on the nod now.Arabs are only a temporary phobia. It’s a shorttrip from Nyack to the shores of Tripoli andback. Thewitchhuntisbuildinghere.Where you gon be when it come?Leave signs.And don’t get caught sleeping with yourshoes offwhile women are forced back to the shelter ofhomicidal husbandsrapists are forced to pay child support children oflesbians orphanedand blacks, browns, and tans herded intowire fences somewhere ’round Tucson.Listen for footsteps.Leave signs.Travel lightand don’t wait ’til morning.The terror is here somewhere inDetroit.And don’t sleep before midnight.And don’t fret over the Poles.We in the same fixwith the Pope’s position on lust andfamily protectiona storefront on every corner inManhattan.Don’t be a fool, now, cool. Imperialismby any other name is imperialism.Even Vietnam was finally over.It’s all the same—a-rabs, gooks, wogs, queers— anigger by any other name . . .Johannesburg is Jamesburg, New Jersey.Apartheid is the board of education inCanarsie.So, don’t be taken in your sleep now.Call your assailant’s name now.Leave the building empty thedoors unlockedand raise the windows high whenthey pass by.Leave signs of struggle.Leave signs of triumph.Leave signs.