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Skittles and Tea

Once upon a distant time, 
while the pastor of a Lutheran church 
in California--itself an anachronism:  how
did Martin Luther, as germanic as kraut
and sausage--ever get to California, 
as laid back as avacado in a salad?  

 I was one of those 1960s good-doers.
The city was as White as a liberal.  
There were two Asian doctors,
but in Oakland, twenty-five miles 
away on another planet, it was 
rumored that there were Black people
willing to move to our town in order
to keep their jobs at the re-located
General Motors plant.  Oh, my god!

 I was White in those days, 
as I have ever been, and must be,
having grown up milking cows before
school, raised on lutefisk and lefse,
but I was in the majority there
in Washington State, and in the majority
still in California, where I learned
to eat hamburgers wrapped
in a whole salad of greenery 
and peppery and dressery.

 In those days, I was a runty
little Scandinavian, as I have 
every been, and must always be, since
I am glued to these chromosones.

 I did good.  
I could afford to.
After all, all of us
were White, with 
the exception 
of two families.

 Then I moved to Chicago
to attend the University of.
In south Chicago, two
or three blocks from the 
University of, in any direction,
we were an exception.  

 I had to switch assumptions,
right to wrong, top to bottom,
inside to outside, and
learn to walk gently.

 I have been thinking about
Trayvon Martin, and what he
did wrong by walking home
with a can of tea and a bag
of skittles.  He was innocent of subversion
or sedition or dating your daughter.  
He was just walking home.

 But he was Black.  
You know:  dangerous;
not one of us!

 A White guy followed him;
a White guy with a gun,
and when the White guy
caught the Black kid,
they apparently fought.
Somebody screamed for help.
Somebody shot the Black kid,
and then the screaming 
for help stopped.

 There was a trial.  
Trayvon Martin, the Black kid,
was convicted of having been shot,
but the other guy was let go:
he was just following kids like
Trayvon to protect himself
and his White neighbors
from people like Trayvon,
who buy skittles and drink tea
on their way home from the store.

 People in the majority
get ideas, and get permits
to carry.  And sometimes
they get their guns back
after the trial.  

 They should outlaw
skittles and tea; maybe
require a license 
to carry them, 
especially if you are
as dangerous as Trayvon
was, snacking on 
skittles.  

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