Calvin Forbes

Raccoon you better be cool Thought I saw you on Broadway Eating King Fish’s barbecue Some people claim raccoon you pretty Swear raccoon tame like a kitty But raccoon bites you if you get too close I saw raccoon on Lenox Avenue Stealing milk from a baby Thought I saw a black cat on the corner But it was nothing but old raccoon Raccoon let me school you Raccoon you know you too country You better leave the city Raccoon they got rats in New York City Big as you and just as ornery Nobody in Harlem studying you raccoon So you better go about your business Raccoon you better get wise Look what playing possum got the possum

Essay #1 Mrs. Goldberg’s AP Intro to Lit Shakespeare understood the blues. He knew parting was such sweet sorrow. Mr. Shakespeare was the main MC Of the Elizabethan scene and so I figure To be or not to be (similar to how you be?) Be as timeless as hell and as universal Since such questions never go out of style. I only wish Othello had sussed out Iago And taken Iago down to the crossroads And asked Iago the devil’s true-true name. Juliet is like Lady Gaga (in my HBO rewrite) And Romeo lives in Harlem with his moms — Though that’s only his nom-de-plume. He wants to be the first rapper with a PhD. And Robert Burns smiles to keep from crying And when he penned the best-made plans Of mice and men (not rats) often go astray What he really meant was shit happens. Dead Old White Men they knew the blues Though they didn’t always know what They knew okay maybe not even in 1619 By which time Shakespeare was Auld Lang Syne and Burns was not yet in this world But the blues isn’t stuck on color or CP time.

Put my glad rags in a cardboard box— This old jiggerboo never grew mature. Is everthing in its place except me? Don’t be surprised; I called all day And the only person I could reach was The operator; and it’s a sorry day when Nothing is coming down but your foot. And how deep is your stomach cause That’s how far your heart will fall! When I’m gone I might come back cause I’m always forgetting something special. A crease in my overalls, my collar stiff, I cried as many tears as I have teeth. And I only got two in my mouth. Son of the Sun look out: as you get black you burn. Is everything in its place except me?

The slice I ate I want it back Those crumbs I swept up I’d like my share again I can still taste it like it was The memory by itself is delicious Each bite was a small miracle Both nourishing and sweet I wish I had saved just a little bit I know it wasn’t a literal cake It’s the thought that counts Like a gift that’s not store-bought Making it even more special Like a dream that makes you Want to go back to sleep You can’t have your cake And eat it too Momma said I was defiant and hardheaded And answered yes I can too The look she gave me said boy I hope you aren’t a fool all your life

A fourth was needed so one of the three Invited a friend and I came along as a spare In case a chair was empty since I could fill In as easily as I could shout out a rhyme. As the jive flowed like the River Jordan And Joshua and his trumpets sounded the alarm The winning cards slam damned on the table And I laughed along with morning noon and night. My three big brothers: bold smart handsome. One slim as a stick of dynamite, the second solid As a line backer and the third crazy enough To fight them both if they let it roll beyond talk. Treated me like a child even after I had my first. The three of them (ace king and a wild card) Improbably born within four years as if Daddy And Momma were trying to break a record Or win a bet about how many diapers a woman Could change in a single day without cursing The hand God had dealt her; the odds were even Until I came along years later to tell their story.