Death Defying Acrobats 8.7.98
The pigmentation and emaciation give me no advantage that I can see, walking
up Orleans towards Broad from the Claiborne bridge. It was a starting place
for my walk home that offered Bossman the least contact with the scary black
people. I find it neither offensive nor funny that Bossman finds this place
scary, as most right minded people would.
The three story brick buildings which make up the Lafitte Projects will
backdrop the left side, across the four divided lanes of Orleans, for about
eight blocks, until I get to Rocheblave. On the right side, where I'm at, the
sidewalk is fronted with stores and houses. It is not necessarily a
threatening experience, even with the walking knowledge that a lot of blood
has been spilled on these corners: at Johnson, at Galvez, at Miro, at Tonti,
at Rocheblave, and Dorgenois, and Broad. Mostly it is knowing that you are
being checked out, and sized up. Tall, skinny, long haired white boy equals
crackhead.
At Johnson, "Whereyat red?"
"Not looking," I say.
At Galvez, "What'sup slim?"
"Not looking."
And I could turn right at Rocheblave, or Dorgenois, and walk the two blocks
into Dumaine but instead I stay to the outskirts, right on Broad, past St.
Ann, and then home sweet Dumaine. As I turn the corner the boys are in front
of Yolanda's trying to stack three mattresses so that they can perform death
defying acrobatic tricks...
...Which is where they are today as I pull up with Kevin (I'm not afraid to
drive you to your home), and Jacque says, "Who is that, your brother."
"A friend from work," I say.
Lance says, "Watch this Mr. Jim," and he takes off running, catapulting high
off the mattresses to perform a beautifully executed front flip, and when his
feet (instead of his head) hit the sidewalk I am impressed and relieved.
"Wow, cool," I say, and so they all line up--Shelton, Glynn, Fermin, Jacque,
and Lance, and do flips for their new audience.
Later, waking up from a nap cluthching my pillow lover, I am aware that M
is being followed into the house by two very quiet pint-sized desperados.
I told him awhile back, "you just have to be patient Shelton, you'll see M
again, it's all about waiting sometimes."
And when I enter M's room Shelton is playing Venus, Goddess from Mars on
the computer, and Jacque is on the couch trying to hide behind a small green
flexible Gumby figure so that I won't see him and throw him out.
"Boy, you kint hide behine sumthin it ain't bigger 'n yur haid," and I cuff
him a few times upside his natural, and throw in a body blow or two, while he
trys to figure out why one day things are this way, and the next day they
ain't.
|
The pigmentation and emaciation give me no advantage that I can see, walking up Orleans towards Broad from the Claiborne bridge. It was a starting place for my walk home that offered Bossman the least contact with the scary black people. I find it neither offensive nor funny that Bossman finds this place scary, as most right minded people would.
The three story brick buildings which make up the Lafitte Projects will backdrop the left side, across the four divided lanes of Orleans, for about eight blocks, until I get to Rocheblave. On the right side, where I'm at, the sidewalk is fronted with stores and houses. It is not necessarily a threatening experience, even with the walking knowledge that a lot of blood has been spilled on these corners: at Johnson, at Galvez, at Miro, at Tonti, at Rocheblave, and Dorgenois, and Broad. Mostly it is knowing that you are being checked out, and sized up. Tall, skinny, long haired white boy equals crackhead.
At Johnson, "Whereyat red?"
"Not looking," I say.
At Galvez, "What'sup slim?"
"Not looking."
And I could turn right at Rocheblave, or Dorgenois, and walk the two blocks into Dumaine but instead I stay to the outskirts, right on Broad, past St. Ann, and then home sweet Dumaine. As I turn the corner the boys are in front of Yolanda's trying to stack three mattresses so that they can perform death defying acrobatic tricks...
...Which is where they are today as I pull up with Kevin (I'm not afraid to
drive you to your home), and Jacque says, "Who is that, your brother."
"A friend from work," I say.
Lance says, "Watch this Mr. Jim," and he takes off running, catapulting high off the mattresses to perform a beautifully executed front flip, and when his feet (instead of his head) hit the sidewalk I am impressed and relieved.
"Wow, cool," I say, and so they all line up--Shelton, Glynn, Fermin, Jacque, and Lance, and do flips for their new audience.
Later, waking up from a nap cluthching my pillow lover, I am aware that M is being followed into the house by two very quiet pint-sized desperados.
I told him awhile back, "you just have to be patient Shelton, you'll see M again, it's all about waiting sometimes."
And when I enter M's room Shelton is playing Venus, Goddess from Mars on the computer, and Jacque is on the couch trying to hide behind a small green flexible Gumby figure so that I won't see him and throw him out.
"Boy, you kint hide behine sumthin it ain't bigger 'n yur haid," and I cuff him a few times upside his natural, and throw in a body blow or two, while he trys to figure out why one day things are this way, and the next day they ain't.
- jimlouis 11-21-2002 6:32 am