Wednesday, November 13, 2019


When I returned to my street yesterday evening I could hear the ruckus from two blocks away. Two black women arguing. Expressing themselves, pithily, while walking a dog.


"Bitch don't you insult my momma bitch, dontcha even dare call my momma a bitch, bitch! I didn't say nuttin' about yo momma, bitch, bitch get a hold of yourself. Bitch. Hey you leave mah dawg alone, bitch! Well pull that bitch mutt back, bitch!
Gonna slap you! Bitch outta mah face!

It's a full moon. And not as cold as it was a week ago.
I passed them, turned the corner, and headed down the block to the doorway of my building. While I was smoking a pipe there I could hear them returning, and see them crossing the street.
Still making each other out for 'bitch'.

I've always had a soft spot for people who hate each other.
Especially when they make a performance out of it.

It's good, though, to keep some distance.
Stay out of the firing line.
Or strike zone.

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