Mercy ("Lawdy Mama," 1969. Oil on canvas) That woman was close to God Damn skin so fine Them hips Swaying like a wind chime Each step I got more Entranced by Her sound Smooth Like those jazz men Off in Prospect Park Those soft walnut Curls of hair Picked clean up towards paradise And all them boys falling over her Thirsting to be blessed by Those lips Lord, this girl had some power
I said I’d play it cool Ask her to Jim’s Friday night Pulled out a cigarette Strolled up slow To kick my game As I got close I thought I saw her smile
But she was looking past me.