Friday Afternoon story time:
Mowing lawns as German Sheps and Irish wolf hounds watch me is funny. ” tis the Rain a’ coming boy so ya’ better get a’ mowing” I kept singing, and while I was giving the greens of the dreamers a haircut (leaving each dandelion to keep on a’ growing) this random vision took over my reality and recalled this one time when I was walking down the street to a party. The city and the street, and oh yeah..um…; so I was walking down the street in Kalamazoo and right before I got to the house that was by this store called oak street market a cop shined his side spotlight on me, rolled down the window and said “show me your hands.” I complied. I had two 22ozs in my hands. “Place them on the ground and put your open palmed hands on the hood of the car” he said.
“Really…” I said; I also mumbled a “mother fuck.” He handcuffed me in front of the party, another mumbled “mother fuckin…” and a laughed “dang”; my eyes could see people having a good old youthful time, doing things like growing up and getting down if you know what I mean. The cop ran my background; a matrix looking screen streaming down my binary record. Next I think he searched the web or something, because I said “are you done yet, because it took almost forty-five minutes to get this shit show over with. No words. I waited. Closed my eyes. I almost fell asleep.
Next: His pointy elm shoes clicked on the cracked concrete of the ghetto as he opened the back of the squad car. “Huh” he said, “you don’t look that old”, and he said this, because he was sure that he was going to arrest me for underage drinking.
“You can grab your AL..AL..alcohol” he said.
“Cool. Have a nice night officer” I said.
Thanks for that memory society. Peace!