Six verses, sixteen bars each. I put a note under every one about where it came from. If you want to say them out loud go ahead, but say who wrote them. That's all I ask.

Ninety-two degrees and the hydrant's wide open,
every little kid on the block out there soakin',
old head on his steps with the transistor low,
same ballgame static that he had years ago,
ice cream truck creepin' with the same old song,
water ice drippin' down my wrist all day long,
double-dutch ropes goin' slap on the street,
two girls jumpin' in like they're born to the beat,
corner store man knows my name and my order,
hoagie, no onions, and a cold quarter-water,
sun goin' down orange over the row homes,
Grandmom on the porch, "Boy, you better come home,"
streetlights flicker like they thinkin' it over,
porch lights click on and the night gets slower,
I ain't got a pool and I ain't got a beach,
but everything I love is in hollerin' reach.

My little brother's nine and he thinks I'm Superman,
waitin' at the door with a ball in his hand,
he got a hundred questions 'fore I'm out of the bed,
like why is the sky blue, how come Mars is red,
he rocks my old jersey and it hangs past his knees,
he copies how I walk, he even copies how I sneeze,
he don't know I'm scared half the time just like him,
that I'm makin' it up while I go, out on a limb,
so I check his homework and I make him read,
'cause a library card is the only key you need,
I tell him look both ways, don't talk to no strangers,
keep your eyes open, stay away from the danger,
he says, "You sound like Grandmom," and I have to laugh,
'cause I'm her copy, he's my copy, do the math,
one day he'll be taller and he'll look down at me,
and I hope what he sees is who I'm tryin' to be.

Sunday mornin', the smell come creepin' up the stairs,
scrapple in the pan, gospel station on the air,
Grandmom in her house shoes, hummin' off-key,
pourin' juice in the glass that she be savin' for me,
same yellow table with the burn on the side,
same church calendar, every Sunday checked off with pride,
same "Wash your hands, boy" 'fore I open my mouth,
same pot of greens that could feed the whole South,
she raised five of her own, now she raisin' us two,
never once said she was tired, even when it was true,
bills on the fridge under magnets shaped like fruit,
she prays over every one, then she irons my suit,
says, "Baby, bills come and bills go, but this family stays,"
piles more eggs on my plate like I'm still growin' for days,
one day I'ma buy her a house with a yard,
and a kitchen twice as big, 'cause she worked twice as hard.

Third period English and the teacher's out sick,
in walks a sub, gray hair, cane, movin' slow, not quick,
whole class smelled blood, here we go, it's a show,
Preston switched seats, made up a name nobody know,
paper wads flyin', somebody beatin' on a desk,
she just stood there and waited, didn't get upset,
then she said, "Preston, sit. I taught your mother in this room,
she sat right there and she was loud as you, too,"
the class went "Ohhhh," then nobody made a sound,
so still you could hear the chalk dust comin' down,
pulled out a book and read a poem out loud,
voice like a trumpet, the whole room bowed,
thirty-one years teachin', she ain't need to yell,
respect ain't somethin' you can beg or sell,
I learned more that hour than I learned all week,
sometimes the loudest thing in the room don't speak.

Court on the corner got a rim but no net,
backboard bent down from a dunk nobody forget,
cracks in the blacktop where the weeds push through,
three-point line painted by somebody's uncle in '82,
we play every day till the streetlights call,
shirts against skins, and it's winner takes all,
Andres got a jumper like he's floatin' on air,
I got a crossover, I'll leave you standin' there,
no refs, no clock, just call your own foul,
and if you call it cheap, the whole court gonna howl,
ain't no net, so you don't never hear the swish,
you just watch it drop through and you know it, like a wish,
that's how life go where I'm from, I guess,
ain't nobody gonna tell you that you're doin' your best,
so you shoot anyway and you follow your shot,
'cause you know when it's good, whether they seen it or not.

Everybody talkin' 'bout the end of the world,
the bug in the computer got the news in a swirl,
two little numbers that they never thought through,
now the clock's gonna roll and it don't know what to do,
think it's nineteen hundred when the clock strike twelve,
Grandmom said, "Good, then the bills can pay themselves,"
she got jugs of water lined up in the hall,
cans of beans and batteries stacked against the wall,
Dylan asked me, "Is the lights gonna go?"
I said, "Maybe for a minute, but I really don't know,"
but here's what I know when the year flip over,
I'ma be on the porch with my brother, shoulder to shoulder,
countin' backwards from ten with the whole block loud,
pots and pans bangin' all up in the crowd,
and if the power go out, then we'll light a candle,
whatever two-thousand bring, we can handle.