X----I

february drop top

mustang flutter by

too cold for a valentine

who lines up to come

to the castle keep

where i keep all the

marks tools and lizards

what's different about this room

when ive been snoozing by myself

in a whole bunch of other ones

i want uptown

i want corner

all solo

i want a dream to crawl out,

a roach in the lo mein box

never written a love poem because

it never leaves a trace on my body

the thing is all about delicacy

MOTORCYCLE GUY #1:
   Hey, Prez, have we got news for you...
Hey, have we got work for you...We gotta guy for you to duel...

MOTORCYCLE GUY #1:    (To Sweetback) You're black, man...

   What's it gonna be? ... Wrestlin'?

   *The chief swaggers over to a big bike and lifts it off the ground. The bikers

gasp and whistle in awe and encouragement*

  GANG:   Hey, how about knives?

  Ha ha! 

 GANG:

    Come on, man, your choice -- what's it gonna    be? Huh? What's it gonna be, man?

*The chief takes off her goggles and helmet -- yes, the chief is a woman. 

A white woman. With long, long red hair. 

She looks at Sweetback. 

Sweetback looks at her*     

 SWEETBACK:   Fucking.