She thought she done taught me a lesson
on the black streets of Richmond - these
niggerly, miserly, stagger lee streets -
opening her eyes so I could see the yellow
'fore I hit her again,
another shot dropped her, maybe
breaking a hip in the fall, her purse now clutched
in my punch-stung hands; yet she rose,
thanked her lord, her tongue lolling. I got
curious, done asked her why. Pause. She says
help just won't come for folk like you.
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