Tough Time “Getting It”
It’s not enough for
white people
to read Invisible Man
or Black Like Me…
And say they understand–
And sympathize
____________
Non-Survivor
The fear of a man who lives
in a world not compatible for him…
Cannot obtain a diagnosis
of where he belongs without
straying from the inevitable.
He stands in the middle of
the road—looking for answers
from disinterested commuters, who are funneled
through the process of a daily grind.
Avoiding cars, who swerve not to kill, yelling
curse words at the guy who straddles the
double lines.
He is not accustomed to table
talk philosophy.
Just stands
in everyone’s way.
Knowing something is not right.
With him, them—
Us.
____________
Doubles—How I Hated You
August 1st, the last taste
of summer
before the dreaded
doubles…
Drink up that beer, see
that beautiful girl sitting
at the end of the bar…
She’s the last female you will be
looking at for a while.
Sleep in that last Sunday, recover,
wake up late afternoon…Pack
your shit—
Socks, shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops.
Anything that will help you survive
the down time…
Because it’s here.
Two a day practice.
90-degree heat.
Stepping onto the turf, Monday
at 8:30 AM—the morning dew
blends in with sweat that pours
into your eyes.
Black helmets facilitate the
process of body drench…
Into our girdle pads—
through the football pants, pocketed
with thigh and knee pads, protectors that rub against
raw skin.
Stretching, up-downs…
Don’t know?
Don’t ask…
Report to position coach, drive the sled
for miles and
miles…
Right shoulder…
Left shoulder…
Oklahoma Drill.
Don’t know?
Picture four bodies in full
collision mode—with one
guy behind the offensive line
and a linebacker behind the devils across
from you.
The running back needs to score…
Leverage wins this game.
Get underneath him.
Drive his ass off the line of scrimmage.
Blood, dirt…no tears—
Just physical battle.
Psychological thrill if you win,
or embarrassing pain for the loser.
Team period, learn the new offense
bit by bit.
Ignore the frowned eyebrows from
coaches who control if you start
or ride the pine…
10:50 AM—beautiful sprints…
Your mouth is pure cotton.
Whistle, run…stop, breath…
Sprint again.
11:10 first session over, walk up the
hill to the stink of the locker room…
Talk to your line buddies—dream of
cocktails and pretty woman.
Collapse, eat, then nap in a dorm
trying to cool with a useless fan…
Three o clock?
Coming soon enough.
Repeat the process…
Rusty Truck 