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I like being that person in her life who gives her the little extras.
“Love you later.” “Love you later,” I shout. She hates goodbye. That’s the last thing her mom said to her before she passed away from a heroin overdose. She’s never said the word goodbye to anyone since.
“Cops!” I say. “It’s gonna be okay.” “Oh, now shit’s about to get real,” Lena says at the exact same time. I turn my head, her eyes meet mine, and we stare at each other.
They look at you and see a poodle. They look at me and all they see is a pit bull.”
Not to mention all the cops around the country acting like it’s open season on black folks.
“We are only as good as the five people around us,” Marcus says, up in his pulpit now. “Mostly because we share the same value system as those five. So he with them, then he made a choice on livin’ like them. He can be an eagle, but if he choose to flock with pigeons, he gon’ have pigeon ways.”
A no-good man has been the end of so many women. Don’t be a statistic.”
“Whatever.” I spin toward the broken window. “I’m not dying with you tonight.”
Did them news people show up before, when they was having a peaceful protest? Was anybody listening when they tried to approach things in a civil manner? No. But when shops start burning down, here they come.
When you push people to their breaking point, and they ain’t got no power, they’ll find a way to take it. What’s so wrong with that?”
