Game 39

​CHI 77               DAL 83

Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Leaving the yuppie bar
Where I’d been writing raps
And drinking tequila.

Skinny side street sidewalk--
Headed back home.

A couple about my age,
Early twenties,
Approached.

Lost in eachother.
Laughing.

I moved aside
But just barely
Brushed her shoulder.

Sorry.
Excuse me.

She looked up for a second
And smiled.

No big thing.

But three steps later
I heard a voice.

Yo, what the fuck man?
You just gonna bump into the lady?

It took a second to realize
He was talking to me.

Yo.
What the fuck?

I turned around.
For real?

I tried to explain:

It had been an accident.

I had already apologized to the lady,
And she seemed fine.

I glanced over at her.

She didn’t really seem fine.

She seemed embarrassed,
Like this had happened before.

She stared at the ground
Blushing and disappointed.

I felt sad for her.

She had looked so happy
And in love
Just seconds earlier.

They both had.

And then,
Just like that,
The boy swung on me.

Grazed my jaw.

And I don’t play that shit,
So I swung back.

Knocked his ass out.

Anger and fearlessness
Are sometimes disguised as
Righteousness and gallantry.

Even within ourselves.

I’ve been there
Too many times
To count.

She quietly knelt down
To deal with him--

An old woman
Sitting at her husband’s bedside.

Unsurprised.

I’m sorry
She whispered to me.

Me too
I said.

And I turned
And walked away.