Encountering the Unicorn and Being Baffled By It
My mouth, known internationally as an unfiltered spew of whatever is in my head, wants to pop off with “WHAT?! Are you fucking STUPID? Trump is a menace. A monster! How can you, a young black man, POSSIBLY BE AGAINST BLACK LIVES MATTERING?”
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?