On Saturdays they came to town.
They walked the miles,
rode in wagons or on muleback.
Left behind and forgotten a few hours
their unpainted wooden shacks
those endless rows of cotton,
pig pens and chicken coops.
Along the main paved street
they passed big two-story houses
white-columned, green shuttered,
shaded, set deep in green lawns.
Near the Confederate monument
they gathered on the sidewalks,
laughing, talking, slapping backs,
men in overalls, patched and faded,
women in flowered cottons,
their heads covered in bandannas.
At Shouse’s grocery they bought staples,
sugar, flour for another week.
White folks stayed behind the columns
or parked along the streets to watch.
We were not invited to the party.
Saturday was colored folks day.
