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for Major L. Jackson & Theodore Harris

Box cars and snake eyes, the Boston, full-house, five-book no-trump uptown, six-book hearts-trump downtown. The kitty's full -

"Sapphire! Where's my wallet? Where's my claim to acclaim?"

Four cards, one to draw, one short of the flush. Amos in the cab, two hours on his meter - "Hey G" grinning to

"I don't roll like that, 'G.'" Calhoun says,

"The price of the ticket is the eradication of obfuscation of damnation and petrification of sublimation in the nation." Man, roll the damn dice . . . Black/


Twenty on the table. I don't want no hit. Soon as I'm able, I'm going for the split. Hit Me!

"Sapphire. O, Sapphire, my Jubilee."

COPYRIGHT 1999 African American Review
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Copyright 1999, Gale Group. All rights reserved. Gale Group is a Thomson Corporation Company.

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Author:Weaver, Afaa Michael
Publication:African American Review
Date:Mar 22, 1999
Previous Article:Michael Holley, Bruthaman Boston Globe sports writer, covers the Celtics - in the '96-'97 season - loss to loss.
Next Article:To Malcolm X on his second coming.

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