After The Gun Shot


Trayvon Little brother strolls
North from shimmering sun kissed palms
To a new Jerusalem of icy prairie winds.
Anchored by a tower built tall
From the dusty bricks of time.

Trayvon Little brother strolls inside.
Starts to climb
Then stops fast.
His view
His window spilling out grand on to
A sweeping golden sunrise
Streaks of orange and fountains of sparkling lemon sky tomorrow.
This view out his window right now
Stops little brother fast.

He throws open the window
Steps out on a fire escape
Breathes in the cleansing icy air
So alive he can feel it in his feet.
Then slap.
Down slams the window shut.
Trayvon Little brother turns around
Inside he sees these laughing blue eyes
This blonde haired girl on the inside. Warmth like home.
She is playing.
Laughing
Pointing out through the glass saying
Gotcha.

Little brother puts his hands on his hips
Smiles at the blue-eyed girl
Like they both are hearing the very same song.

She throws open the window
He steps inside
Out of the wind
Warm and finally home.

And from the pulsing rhythm of that tower’s heart
Little brother hears the distant song
Of a man named Curtis Mayfield, singing out a call.

“When you wake up early in the morning
Feeling sad like so many do . . . . “

Then little brother looks at the blue eyed girl.
And she says to him,

“Follow me.”

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