The Fire In My Brother
My brother tells me he does not see skin color. That he sees
credentials and (work) performance. He says this after I tell him
blacks are last to hired and first to fired. My brother runs after the taxicab with a baseball bat in hand. He is
on the Westside Hwy, near the Brooklyn Bridge Ext. A white man in the
taxicab (moments before) spits in his face. He had cut off the cab. The
white man is the passenger. Words are exchanged between him and my
brother. Then the spit happens. And my brother running...
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