On Killing The Old Man (Part 4) Poem by fanniesson -

I knew it was over between Cheryl,
my black girlfriend and me
when I found myself one Sunday afternoon
in some store front
Baptist Church on Dumont Avenue
Brownsville East New York
a no fly zone section of the city
unless you were black back then,

and I had two maybe three tabs of
windowpane in me,

and she shows up with a hat on head
that needed to be killed
if not caged.

I knew it was over between her
and me even if she was by far my
strongest weapon yet in an arsenal
I had be building since the sixth grade
designed to kill the old man
one way or another, without me ever
laying a finger on him.