After midnight

I can’t sleep. Thoughts swirl. My throat feels tight, my chest feels like a weight sits in the middle of it. But why? I read news stories. The brother walking home from his dishwashing job after midnight in Asheville, and two cops stopped him to say he had crossed dark empty streets four times not at the crosswalk. And trespassed by cutting through a deserted parking lot, too. They wanted to arrest him or give him a ticket for jaywalking. He said do what you have to do, I’m tired. I’m just trying to get home. They moved to handcufff him at which point he ran. They tasered him. Pummeled his head with fists. Choked him. Slammed him on the ground. All of it caught on body cam video. At least he’s alive. Don’t cross empty streets after midnight except at the crosswalk if your skin is of a darker hue. Even if you’re tired from working hard and just trying to get home. Later, much later the lawyers looked at the video and dropped all charges. I watched the video with the sound turned down. I thought: it never fucking ends. I thought: why am I putting such hateful news into my brain after midnight? What you focus on multiplies so look for the love. Maybe it is loving to bear witness to the dishwasher’s ordeal. To root for him. To pray he will be okay. Besides, who can unsee the crazy happening everywhere? Can you imagine if Barack Obama had paid a porn star a hundred and thirty thousand dollars to keep quiet about their extramarital tryst? But with Trump it’s ho fucking hum. I got a new book project. Another heavy topic. Full ghost this time. No “with” byline on the cover. Maybe there will be inspiration. Hope in the broken spaces. As there was with the last book. I loved my last subject. It really helps to fall a little bit in love if you’re going to write someone’s story. God. This turbulence inside me. Why?