My aunt, Charleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnne, was in college when Buffy and I were four, five, and like most young college students, she took it upon herself to educate the masses with her new found experiences. The masses at the time were her nieces who would have rather been playing with Weeble wobbles (weebles wobble but they won’t fall down!) or Little People (both toys were horrible choking hazards, but golly were they fun!). Charleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnne and my mom would recite this poem doing a sort of hip, hop, bop, rap and jive dance.
I liked how short it was and the scandal of “we” dying soon.
We Real Cool by Gwendolyn Brooks
THE POOL PLAYERS.
SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL.
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon.
Doing a funky pimp walk,
-r
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