Memories from the ghetto.

Afros and Bigwheels, hula-hoops and slinkies

Disco on the radio, and loads and loads of twinkies.

We grew up poor

but were too young to understand,

that poverty and the ghetto

walked in stride, hand in hand.

Rent was ninety dollars,

a bus ride thirteen cents.

You can look all you want,

you wouldn't find any picket fence.

None of it mattered,

we enjoyed life the same.

We played chess like the rich kids

and even owned a monopoly game.

Times were tough indeed,

not much to choose from the cupboards.

Similar to that ageless tale

of poor Old Mother Hubbard.

Jiffy cornbread for breakfast, bologna sammiches for lunch,

Day old chicken for dinner, it had everything but the crunch.

But nothing compared

to that heavenly treat

of sugar bread on white,

since we couldn't afford wheat.

Untoasted unbuttered,

just a slab of wonder bread.

Sprinkled with lots of sugar,

became the love of our hungry heads.

Humbling it is,

remembering self-taught tenacity.

And we survived those trying times,

with just a few measly cavities...

I'd do it all over again...