Last Letter
From A Typical
Unemployed
Black Professional
Woman
So it’s a gorgeous afternoon in the park
It’s so nice you forget our Attitude
The one your mama taught you
The one that says Don’t-Mess-With-Me
You forget until you hear all this
Whistling and lip smacking
You whip around and say
I ain’t no damn dog
It’s a young guy
His mouth drops open
Excuse me Sister
How you doing
You lie and smile and say
I’m doing good
Everything’s cool Brother
Then five minutes later
Hey you Sweet Devil
Hey Girl come here
You tense sigh calculate
You know the lean boys and bearded men
Are only cousins and lovers and friends
Sometimes when you say Hey
You get a beautiful surprised smile
Or a good talk
And you’ve listened to your uncle when he was drunk
Talking about how he has to scuffle to get by and
How he’d wanted to be an engineer
And you talk to Joko who wants to be a singer and
Buy some clothes and get a house for his mother
The Soc. and Psych. books say you’re domineering
And you’ve been to enough
Sisters-Are-Not-Taking-Care-Of-Business discussions
to know where you went wrong
It’s decided it had to be the day you decided to go to school
Still you remember the last time you said hey
So you keep on walking
What you to good to speak
Don’t nobody want you no way
You go home sit on the front steps listen to
The neighbor boy brag about
How many girls he has pregnant
You ask him if he’s going to take care of the babies
And what if he gets taken to court
And what are the girls going to do
He has pictures of them all
This real cute one was supposed to go to college
dumb broad knew she could get pregnant
I’ll just say it’s not mine
On the back of this picture of a girl in a cap and gown
It says something like
I love you in my own strange way
Thank you
Then you go in the house
Flip through a magazine and there is
An-Ode-To-My-Black-Queen poem
The kind where the Brother
Thanks all of the Sisters Who Endured
Way back when he didn’t have his Shit Together
And you have to wonder where they are now
And you know what happens when you try to resist
All of this Enduring
And you think how this
Thank-you poem is really
No consolation at all
Unless you believe
What the man you met on the train told you
The Black man who worked for the State Department
And had lived in five countries
He said Dear
You were born to suffer
Why don’t you give me your address
and I’ll come visit
So you try to talk to your friend
About the train and the park and everything
And how it all seems somehow connected
And he says
You’re just a Typical Black Professional Woman
Some sisters know how to deal
Right about here
Your end of the conversation phases out
He goes on to say how
Black Professional Women have always had the advantage
You have to stop and think about that one
Maybe you are supposed to be grateful for those sweaty
Beefy-faced white businesmen who try to
Pick you up at lunchtime
And you wonder how many times your friend had
Pennies thrown at him
How many times he’s been felt up in the subway
How many times he’s been cussed out on the street
You wonder how many times he’s been offered
$10 for a piece of himself
$10 for a piece
So you’re waiting for the bus
And you look at this young Black man
Asking if you want to make some money
You look at this young Black man
Asking if you want to make some money
You look at him for a long time
You imagine the little dingy room
It would take twenty minutes or less
You only get $15 for spending all day with thirty kids
Nobody is offering you
Any cash for your poems
You remember again how you have the advantage
How you’re not taking care of business
How this man is somebody’s kid brother or cousin
And could be your own
So you try to explain how $10 wouldn’t pay for
What you’d have to give up
He pushes a handful of sticky crumpled dollars
Into your face and says
Why not
You think I can’t pay
Look at that roll
Don’t tell me you don’t need the money
Cause I know you do
I’ll give you fifteen
You maintain your sense of humor
You remember a joke you heard
Well no matter what
A Black Woman never has to starve,
Just as long as there are
Dirty toilets and…
It isn’t funny
Then you wonder if he would at least
Give you the money
And not beat you up
But you’re very cool and say
No thanks
You tell him he should spend his time
Looking for someone he cares about
Who cares about him
He waves you off
Get outta my face
I don’t have time for that bullshit
You blew it Bitch
Then
(Is it suddenly)
Your voice gets loud
And fills the night street
Your voice gets louder and louder
Your bus comes
The second-shift people file on
The security guards and nurse’s aides
Look at you like you’re crazy
Get on the damn bus
And remember
You blew it
He turns away
Your bus pulls off
There is no one on the street but you
And then
It is
Very Quiet