Probably my favorite poem from any Black Arts movement writer:
As You Leave MeShiny record albums scattered overthe living room floor, reflecting lightfrom the lamp, sharp reflections that hurtmy eyes as I watch you, squatting among the platters,the beer foam making mustaches on your lips.And, too,the shadows on your cheeks from your long lashesfascinate me--almost as much as the dimplesin your cheeks, your arms and your legs.You hum along with Mathis--how you love Mathis!with his burnished hair and quicksilver voice that dancesamong the stars and whirls through canyonslike windblown snow, sometimes I think that Mathiscould take you from me if you could be completewithout me. I glance at my watch. It is now time.You rise,silently, and to the bedroom and the paint;on the lips red, on the eyes black,and I lean in the doorway and smoke, and see yougrow old before my eyes, and smoke, why do youchatter while you dress? and smile when you grabyour large leather purse? don't you know that when you leave meI walk to the window and watch you? and lighta reefer as I watch you? and I die as I watch youdisappear in the dark streetsto whistle and smile at the johns
I think that last stanza is killer. The rhythm from the use of "smoke" and then the sudden sadness of "I die as I watch you." I first read this when I was 19. I thought "john" was just slang for "dude." I guess it kinda is.
UPDATE: There's a weird synergy between this and the fact we're talking about Firefly today. I swear it wasn't intentional.