“Now he knows what the “n” word means.”
She bellowed through discolored teeth,
Her vinegar lips pursing upon the dank breath of morning
As foul old men slurred about guns and their prideful obligation,
“To use `em when times call or when we damn well please!”
“Around here we looks out for our own, if you know what I mean?”
Her words slapped against the men’s droll bones;
They all got a healthy chuckle from her chattering slabs and
Pretended they weren’t scared, tiny, frightened men snorting fear.
“They ain’t supposed to come o’ lootin’ when water’s a risin.”
Everywhere the same; old white men selling out for dread,
Spitting demise through long and broken teeth, faded of affection
Or familiar threads of explanation for tongue-tied unkindness.
“Hell! Ya gotta protect yourself. They’s in the wrong neighborhood.”
Fusty gangs of bitter men hell-bent on bleeding out the world!
This is the time for hoping, for loving,
The time for reaching one another, believing
While the water’s drowning all belief!
Yes! Now’s the time for considering another
Even if all it ever proves is that we’re worth saving!
“We ain’t afraid to shoot em when they comes `round here!”
She splattered through her yellowed flapping maw.
The foul-smelling men sniggered away another minute;
It never occurred to them that the weight of fear and hatred
Was sure to sink them when next the waters come o’ lootin’...
© 2008 mrp/tpm
