Weeks have passed and all anyone can talk about,
Are the riots surrounding the death of Mike Brown.
As I walk down the street, I pass the boarded windows of businesses.
…And what is left of others.
Every day before I leave my mom gives me the same speech:
“Don’t wear your hood.”
“Keep your pants up.”
“Walk with your hands to your sides.”
“Don’t stay out too late.”
“And if anyone stops you, do as they say.”
The speech I’m sure every black kid my age is getting.
I hear my name being called.
But it’s coming from the park my mom told me to stay away from.
So I keep walking.
Soon I’m at my friend’s house.
I stare at the memorial that was once in the middle of the street but is now on the sidewalk near.
I knock but get no answer.
I wait a few more minutes before knocking again.
I eventually head back home.
It was beginning to get dark.
As I was walking, I broke one of the rules,
My hands were in my pockets.
Red and blue lights flashed behind me.
I keep walking.
That’s another rule.
They tell me to turn around.
I do as told.
I turn and see that their hands are already on their guns.
I take my hands out of my pocket.
There’s a sharp pain in my side.
Was I next?