We were walking through
the Garment District
or one of its impostors.
Twenty feet ahead of us
a group of three young black men
were walking passed the storefront
of an overpriced boutique. One of
them knocked a legs-only mannequin over
presumably by accident, though totally remorseless
and proceeded to laugh as he caught up
with his two cohorts and sped away.
A black couple was walking
five strides behind the offending party.
The man shook his head, picked up
the display, brushed off the jeans it was wearing
shook his head again, reached for
the hand of the woman by his side
and continued on down the sidewalk.
"See, Honey," I said once we were at the corner.
"That's the difference between a..."
"Stop," she interjected.
"...and an Af-..."
"I know."
"...and I'm glad that the latter gets just
as frustrated with the former as we do."
We both pondered how inclusive a "we" I meant
and continued with our lovely day
accepting the fact that all of us live
in an imperfect world.
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