1.  Peachtree St., Atlanta.

Quivering like a horny teenage male 
wanting to become a man but not knowing how,
indiscriminatly ejaculating wealth on one block like
Brooks Brothers and Macys and the Omni Hotel, 
then knowing the frustration of blight on the next block
where Tokyo Shapiro's Quick Chinese Food is closed
and the One-Hour Valet Cleaners will now take forever.
The city grows fast and matures slowly.
			

2.  My Hotel

It is one AM.
A room for the night in this hotel 
costs more than a days wage.
At that it's cheap for Atlanta.
I can hear every door close
and every toilet flush.
It's all better when I hear
a mockingbird
somewhere nearby
singing its heart out 
under halogen security lights
and a small sliver of silver moon.
			
3.  AFRICAN ARTS

Black Pride.
A boutique in the hotel district
that sells African art
to black Americans.

The art is new 
from Nigeria and Tanzania.
New art.
Not antiques
but at antique prices.
High prices.
This art depreciates when it leaves the shelf.
Should a brother do this to a brother?