Inner Circle

Trapped in the park at night,
between Seymore and Fenton Avenues
the homeboys, the bad boys, dealers
and enforcers, devils and demons hold court.

And I am Dante.

Crack heads wander wide-eyed
and wired.
Junkies sleepwalk
and stumble.
Dust heads shuffle like zombies
lost in limbo.

Prostitutes, coke whores, party girls,
the any-bodies' girls sell their bodies,
fallen angels fearless of AIDS.

This is the land of nihilism.

They 'want it', and they wait . . .
they 'get it' any way they can,
find the man who’s got the answer,
ten dollars worth of solution.

This is a circle of Hell.

Coke, crack, herb and smack, cloudy white
uncut diamonds, crystalline powder
and ground up leaves, all yours for
the asking price of your soul.

And I am with the damned, condemned
by the sin of self destruction.