©When It’s Late At Night And You’re Home Alone

 

Some might call it Vigilante Geriatrics, but the Baby Boomer generation is hell bent on not being victims and will stop at nothing to gain the respect they rightfully deserve. And then there are those who…
Well, discover the other side of getting older for yourselves.
when it's late at night

He screamed at her— “Why?!”— in the street
Pacing back and forth in front of the old woman’s house, not in front of his
House where two young children were sleeping.
Street performers they were not, but this was
A performance worthy of the Maury Povich show.
The girl screamed back. They shouted profanities until
He begged to know “Why?!” again. “How can you fuckin’ do this to me?
“How can you fuckin’ do this?
“To me?
“Why?
“Tell me the fuck why!”
The police showed up. Damn! the old woman thought, I didn’t call them;
But the couple was in front of her house…who
Did they think called the po-leece on them?
The old woman was white; they were not.
So, who did the fighting couple think called the police?
Certainly not the only other neighbor of color on the main street;
No, they surely believed it was the white woman with her lights out
Squatting behind her door too terrified to move in her own house.
Wait…what was that the reason she was so close to the floor?
There wasn’t gunfire tonight. God! she wished
Someone, the po-leece or the girl, would
Have shot him with verbal warnings of Shut The Hell Up.
Or that he would knock on her door. She would like a piece of him.
Their house remained closed up, blinds down, lights off all the next day.
This did not use to be the projects; it wasn’t the ghetto until recently.
It was time for the white-haired Caucasian lady to move.
A neighbor’s car, parked across the street, was covered with body-slam dents.
It was he who called the police. He promised he’d call them again.
Never ask the old lady to apologize for her feelings, for her actions;
She gets quite pissed and then she will begin screaming herself,
Even attempt to eat the violent person on the other side of her door—

And it’s not over yet…

 

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