As I am a fair cook, I know that if a tough piece of meat is marinated long enough it will begin to tenderize. Of course you can marinate some a but too long in my experience.
I finally settled on one of the visions coagulating in my imagination for yesterday’s Writer’s Digest PAD challenge, Day 17. The prompt was to write a swing poem (details here) I could a gone everything from 50 Shades of Greg trendy to old tire on a tree nostalgic. Instead I chose a scene from my days working in the Studio Museum in Harlem on 125th st. In New York City.

Ditty Bop Swing

It’s a slow stride,
sort of dip
in the shoulder,
bend in the knee.
Ringed fingers
adorning hands
from arms,
Back foot slides
a hint of bounce.
Crowing nonchalance
with requisite cool
all over my face.
Could be Ditty Boppin’
on the Moon.
But I’m on 7th Av.
aka Powell Blvd.
and stoops are full
of unemployed,
permanent underclass,
economically immobile.
As I Ditty Bop
back and forth
between my slave,
and home.
Earning my
minimum pay
in maximum ways.
So I can keep
my rent controlled crib,
pay my PO,
get some weed
to take the
edge off.
‘Cause the
Malt liquor
just puts it on,
throwin’ my
Swagger off,
dulling the glare
on my swag
as I Ditty Bop
back and forth
between 125th
and home.

M. Zane McClellan

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