Excuse me,

I seem to have stumbled upon some type of fucking historical moment,

One that will be studied for decades since,

Or wait hey,

am I or this whole country on some intergalactic version of Candid Camera.

But instead of a suitcase,

a suitcase we can’t lift,

that we are instead stuck in the midst of a really bad movie,

a movie involving a pandemic, a great depression, and riots

which is all directed by a Charlie Chaplin like, Hitleresque wannabe President.

But wait,

excuse me,

I seem to have stumbled upon a bag, no wait I think it’s a body,

But wait,

Excuse me,

I think I have stumbled into a line from a song.

“Stop children what’s that..”

But wait, is that a bullet hole through our constitution?

But wait, children

 

excuse me, why am I crying?

 

I am marching one minute for racial justice,

and now I am cleaning out the looted store of a City family

that only wanted to…

to live and work here in peace.

But wait,

excuse me,

why am I talking down an immigrant friend,

who was caught in the looting and had flashbacks to civil war,

civil war in the country they had fled from to come here.

But wait,

Excuse me,

But what am I going to tell my beautiful brown grandchildren?

A police officer came into our yard the other day,

They were looking for something,

At age three, she hid behind a planter,

How do I tell her that she and I,

I with my white skin,

will forever see that officer differently.

How do I tell her to never ever run from that officer and never to hide

but to try to leave as quickly and quietly as possible but not too quickly or to quietly

or to just sit or stand and put her hands up in the air, to never ever reach for a purse,

or ID,

or a phone.

how do I tell her, how to act just right,

just right, so that I do not have to attend her funeral

before I die.

BUT WAIT, EXCUSE ME

HOW DO I EXPLAIN TO MY WHITE BROTHERS AND SISTERS AND FRIENDS

THAT THIS, THAT NONE OF THIS F’ING BULLSHIT IS IN ANYWAY RIGHT.

That I should not have to sit here crying

thinking of their possible future dead bodies, killed by cops

When the white folks I know smile and may even enjoy flirting with those same officers.

Hey, but hey wait

Didn’t I tell them this would happen?
Didn’t I tell my wife on election day,

That,

if he did what he said he would do,

that we might not be alive in four years,

or that I might not be,

because I will put my life on the line,

on the line to defend that beautiful and deeply, deeply flawed constitution.

Will you,

No serious, no more intergalactic stuff,

I mean seriously,

Will You?

 

© words by Daniel DeMarle 6/2/2020