Everybody calls him L

About the fifth time Larry hits me up

for spare change or a smoke,

he says most people call him L.

So I always keep a couple bucks

in my pocket and give him a smoke

if I have one, it's one more

I won't have to smoke, see?

How you doing, L? Need a light?

Yeah, man, you're beautiful.

It's bad, hard out here, nobody

wants to help me out.

But at least it ain't raining

and the sun's out so you know...

and you always help me out,

you're beautiful, man, God bless you.

I'ma go get some food,

thank you man. Shakes my hand.

He walks down to the corner

past the other young men

hanging out. They have a

sound system playing something

loud, a soundtrack for the sidewalk.

A couple of young women

shimmy to the beat,

cut their eyes at L as he walks by.

They all shake their braids and laugh.

Look at me as if I am a fool,

then resume whatever important

business they have been discussing.

L walks past the Burger King

without stopping, passes up

whatever ninety-nine cent thing

they are pushing now.

It doesn't matter.

The sun is shining

and L is smiling and it'll probably

be the same tomorrow so

I'll make sure to have a couple dollars

and a cigarette if I have one.

It's one more I won't have to smoke, see?