This is when you become political: this unarmed black boy shot this white killer cop not charged but given three months paid vacation plus one million dollars in thanks for this job well done. This happened yesterday, too, the day before that. They used to say this: Dance, nigger dance and empty their guns laughing- this was their theory: if you could rise fast enough the bullets would not hit your feet. This, the weight of five centuries that did not break your back. This, you were scared of then. This, you stiffened silent and bore. This will happen again tomorrow. Different city, different dead black boy body. But now this straw needle. Oh, how your baby boy loves to dance. His legs, though, are little. He could never jump, high enough. |