...Once up on a space there was a runt ice cream truck resting on the curbside in a bewildered parade rest. After a riot. After the Watts become objects of their own dry. Bafflement. Illumination. Praise song for the daze. A modest proposal about new roads. Trade. From its speakers came the, Bodhisattva. The po-lice came: canes, rocks, doppelgangers of the apocalypse. Strutters. Crooks. Papa's looking out the window waiting for them to pass us. Employees from out-of-pocket. Collapsed to beneath their gazes. Currency came. A resuscitation of the vehicle. Its speakers reeled Sun Ra, EPMD, Donald Byrd, Toots and the Maytals, helices of always and forever, these moments. The Moments. The river is moving, the black bird must be flying. Capital ING. Gerund. Bunting a word off its axis. Fly bird. Gin and tips. I almost forgot how brown and elegant. This was. Belafonte and Jim Crow. Mom and the Man. Sharpen your pencils. My first gig, mopping tunnels. From the truck, wafting, the thin sculptural aroma of young coconut. The five circumstances of a Bud. Powell. Fingering the ivory tower, tenderly. The oriental bow. No, Asian. No rent. Party/parting. I beg your pardon. North, then farther North. Then Shango. Shan't go no father. The smell of shins after recess, tar and sweat. Carbon and tears. Shank and clover. Techno chalk. Lady dont't. Bossy kids. Thirsty kids. Offering the silver dollar, washing it down with the clear jargon of an honest salesman.
We have recovered these treat trucks, lost during the Watts Riots but extant in memory, and we will be revamping them. Listen closely. Catch one and get a coconut, some fresh fruit, some new music... A mood
For how rare is joy and joy is rare. For what's theirs is joy and joy is theirs. Though what air they've poised is poison air. For what's paramount of theirs: hymnal ledges of the voice, skin of the swan, uncommon of the look-upon, uncle tom of uncle tom For how spare is boy the boy is spared For whats theirs is his and he is theirs joy. spoiled. son. heir to what's paramount of theirs is him spread into gimmie sums For how raised his void is, his void is there where they oblige him a store of helium he rides to when
