Going out to vote
It’s 7:30am. I’m ironing a suit and going out to vote-looking at a worn stone my great uncle who was born in 1883 and died in 1982 carved, 'Don't be Discourage'. He was a stone worker for the cemeteries in New Orleans. I look at that when facing a seemingly futile proposition or a corruption so great, you feel paralyzed. Alphonse was his name. We called him Pomp.
He was known for not taking shit in the days when that WAS your identity if you were black and out of your lane. He believed in voting and following the news on the radio.
Hmmm…news? It's all entertainment now, but he was never cynical. Pomp said 'make 'em cheat you to your face. Never stay home'.
We need a revolution.