Standing In Line

black-and-white-community-crowd-9816

Readied the winds of change

would speak tonight,

fair warning,

a knee cap to the asphalt

the bleeding had begun …

 

and so he may believe

this might be a truth

 

He chose to ice the damage

knowing full well this body

would not desire the challenge

to respond

be the resilient one

hold fast to insurrection

 

and so he believe

this might be a truth

 

How ought the line respond

cut inside the weaker lot

forward we will resonate our steps

it is the American way,

we do as descendent find

sweet entitlement in crass negated

walkways, airstrips, bon voyage

 

I see the ghosts of my ancestor

still standing firm, dignity in hand

When Wandering Headlights Weep

In picture windows across the world,

they watch, they stare, they sometimes

cry,

they’re the souls left alone to wonder,

watching the headlights streamline by,

like a slow motion ray of long wound

catapults of energy,

sweeping past the imagination

without waiting wanderers,

perhaps ne’er a question of why.

 

We all might wish to have that moment,

a second of their time,

screeching tires and suddenly

out the door, a person,

a human being assuredly defines the rapid

departure of any possibility

defining the time

we just watched sweep past our reality.

 

Yet for that next few hours,

she will, he might, and they’ll return,

to their security,

the picture window,

observing the reality with swift purpose,

motion by,

as if to recognize

there is no one waiting nearby,

only everyone lays ahead,

in the distance,

there’s the real reason why.