Wings over Riviera

Music sets the windows to rattling
Somewhere beyond my sight
I know there is something not right about this city
From my window I can hear the solid
Dinth Dinth Dinth of a basketball
slapping against a little brown palm
slamming against the tar black asphalt
and back up soaring , soaring

City roads lined with the newest cars the biggest trucks
and no side walks for these kids to walk safely on
up the street the ball and palm and road continues
somewhere there is a park with children playing
rusted jungle gym
spray painted slide
broken swings
but still they come one after the other
Dinth Dinth dinth
On up the street

Under the shaded cabana
with its peeling pink paint
between its four rounded columns
debased with all manner of filth
stands the scrounge of the nation
these young black men
with nothing but what they hold in their hands
or carry on their backs
the filth in their bodies so obvious but yet no one speaks out
no one makes a move to get them off these streets and into schools

they stand day and night rain or shine
on corners in back yards and alleyways
sick in mind and body waiting for an escape
that doesn't last long enough
speaking but saying nothing
running but going no where

What I fear is that the children look up[ to them
respect them as the natural order
already I can hear the difference
in the rhythm of hand against ball
the force of the bounce slows down
interest fades and another child is lost

Every night I see the lights
Blue and white pulsing on my walls
I lay on the cool tile floor of my home
and I pray for the best
despite the angry voice despite the screams of pain
despite the bullet holes and broken glass
shattered on my bedroom floor
I never give up hope that tomorrow
The balls will bounce higher and higher
I don't believe in god but I have seen angels
And I know that there are wings over Riviera