![]() ![]() The cops shook their heads at this ridiculous black-on-black crime. ![]() ![]() “Gentlemen,” Dad told the cops, after noticing me sitting there, applauding. Chicago cops came speeding down our street before Dad’s loafer could dislodge the man’s teeth. Washington,” the man told Dad.ĭad loosened his grip on the man. “Sorry for saying you look like Booker T. Upstairs, above our heads, Mom screamed for the men to stop, to regain their senses, civilize themselves. He had the man’s head, the man’s life and soul, between his thighs. I remember awe and disbelief.ĭad was on the curb, wrestling another man. I remember Grandma holding my ankle, swinging my two-year-old self out the front door, flipping me right-side up, plopping me down next to the Hawaiian violets, plopping herself down next to me. I remember yelling outside our window, coming in from the street. “If there’s one thing wrong with people,” Paul always said, “it’s that no one remembers the shit that they should, and everyone remembers the shit that doesn’t matter for shit.” ![]()
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