BLACK LIVES MATTER

Over a year of violent protests with no social distancing.

People coming in from out of state elbow to elbow, nose to nose, mouth to mouth then return to their respective states to spread the good word of BLACK LIVES MATTER with a death certificate attached bearing the signature of THE VIRUS.

BLACK LIVES MATTER just confirmed themselves to be terrorists.

My life matters to me. Keep your distance. How many people have you murdered by spreading the virus without regard for human life?

You got on planes and buses? Your irresponsible behavior and disregard for the health and safety of those you claim to want to convince of your superiority shines badly on you, not upon all people who earned their right to vote for whomever they choose. Now you deny them that right because you don’t like their choice.

I lived in the Pacific Northwest for eleven years. Nowhere did I see prejudice that newcomers didn’t create themselves.

Remember that Ricco? Remember those sweet songs you sang to all folk not just some folk?

Do you recall that poker game you were inited to because, well, maybe because I singled you out as a friend?

And do you remember how you were accepted, then when you showed up, sat down and placed a gun on the table people were justifiably freaked?

After it all, you still were my friend, but now I realize through BLACK LIVES TERRORISTS that you were hating me all the while. One person to another. Both poor, both smart, both struggling. One black one white. I didn’t hate you; you did the hating. My life as it turned out was worse than yours and I never did any of the bad things that you did.

I’ll give you something though that you never gave to me; I’m dancing tonight for you – a freedom to be and do dance – that has nothing to do with color, gender or ethnicity.

Freedom to be and to do – BOTH. So in the presence of those who don’t like me, you still embrace me and I do the same to you. How about that?

You got that Sharon. You got that right.

Thanks Ricco. Yeah yeah I get the other part too. But we always did that anyway – without a thought.

When was the last time I saw you?

At WOODSHED. PORTLAND OREGON.

Just checking in case you were, you know, somebody pretending to be you, Sharon.

ROCKWOOD neighborhood to be more precise. Pine Street. Across for Skipper’s Restaurant where Steve was manager at the time, that’s where we lived.

You’re rockin’ Sharon. Keep going; you’re great.

I was witness to a cowboy’s hat raising from a cowboy’s head just by him hearing Sharon’s voice. She gave him a thousand prayers or something like that, including a statue of the virgin Mary. His name was JIMMY VEE.

We all had good times in spite of the suffering in all of our individual lives.

YES WE DID…

So whad’ya say we tame Portland down – you and me – a black man and a white woman who know this town? Who lived this town.

Think we’ve always been doin’ it Ricco, just nobody was listening or maybe they were all the time, just didn’t say it. On second thought, when around us people were feeling and acting better, good, happy to be with you sort of thing.

Hey that old man of yours who stood up for me at that bar give him a big hug from me, nothing to do with race either way. I understood it all – as you did. There was wrong all the way around. Actually you Sharon were the only one who recognized that, but we all just needed to play out our game and you allowed it. You made sure nobody got hurt.

Long after that I realized, as I’m sure the others did, that you were the only one not playing – the game. You were in a place we put you and you responded for real; it was no game on your part.

And so that’s why you Ricco contacted me today – to solve a problem you and everybody else couldn’t solve? Come on Ricco.

I’m dead, you’re not.

Yeah well you were seventy when I was thirty something, so don’t accuse race for your death.

I don’t, not with you, because you and I both know better.

Let me sleep on it.

  • We’re near death here with THE VIRUS.
  • Okay, I slept for five seconds. Our story is enough for us as individuals. We all lived it, nobody else was there – well except the government operatives. I don’t have a group, you do, but where were they when you needed them?

Exactly.

Who was there?

You and Steve. You and Steve, Sharon.

I think that’s the best I can do.

  • I do not want to change the past of us, and the activists will make something bad of it.

I agree. Wow. You’re quite the writer.

And you’re quite the ghost.

I was real Ricco. You were an actor.

Published by Biztown Recordz Gh

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