Wednesday, August 27, 2008

I saw him and others saw him the strike the white man.
One man screamed,
“Don’t bring that shit around me and my daughter.”
In his arms his only child. Asleep.
Sunday night. Twilight.
The train had left the hub.
Southbound at dusk.
Southbound and most seats are filled.
From end to end.

I saw when he crossed from another car.
Followed by two dames. Two carriages,
One boy. One girl.

A Newport light 100 cigarette.
And the hapless white man.
After the cigarette lit, I saw him strike the man with his fist.
He’d declared he would as he took a long pull. Oh so long.

Melee, fight.
A man has a right to defend himself.
In the aisles no one would help him.
These thugs. Three of them now.
Children themselves.
He speaks for them somehow.
Ply them, supply them with spirit.
Can smell it on their breath.

Venom on their lips and their fists.
They beat him about the head.

I saw the man, just glimpses of him at this point.
Through all of this the train had not gone far.
They pushed him off at Bryn Mawr. (glo)

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...