Ghetto blaster Boombox blasts over shoulders the kids shadowbox to the beat of Ali with opponent on the ropes. This is the scene director pans to a coffin taxi with Nancy skin washed of blades wedding dress with bleach lined down the entry wound the womb gets the red right out. Close up on Sid’s arm shot with heroin up like a firework to bedazzle the kids — an explosion that dismembers disperses New York fog a black man tethered to a pick-up bumper a piñata pregnant with sweets, sacrificed. The soundtrack needs the Sunshine Band’s “Get Down Tonight” needs minstrel gloves electrified fingers flail to the sounds of freedom. The director blocks the shot to show black skin has space to swivel hips with leather boots chains swing on jeans the rhythm of broken rocks the rhythm of railroads as disco floors illuminates when thoughts of the abandoned child “Billy Jean” hit the toes. The punk smiles — get a close up the joy always escaped stolen by never seen on birthed by the poser punk, feet catch ribs tempo and the script supervisor says, “This is the scene where the violence breathes dies Johnny Rotten Lydon’s dream of junky graves erodes with unfurled kid knuckles. batons will keep their distance from bones as a circle pit of pogoes pry bruises off the dance floor, and black hands guide Gary Oldman Sid to Nancy’s taxi — her lesion dress sewn perfect, her breath is an oxygen tank when if the air in heaven is too thin.” This is the scene where the black kids chase the punks to the promise land.

The poem is adapted from the final few minutes of the film, Sid and Nancy, where Sid Vicious dances with some black children while waiting for Nancy. He seemed euphoric, especially considering the film (based on their actual lives) revolved so heavily around their addictions and sorrow. Johnny Rotten, Sid Vicious’ former bandmate from the Sex Pistols, lambasted the scene because it was too “happy” and did not blend well with the punk aesthetic. Being half black and growing up listening to punk music, I found the scene powerful as it destroyed the image of the violent punk and the thuggish black person — it showed that the stereotypes of criminality were truly nonexistent in these bodies, hence the crossed-out words being violent connotations. In brief, it is a celebration of joy, found within two cultures that I share, when outsiders would not normally see joy to be had.

Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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