as i lay dying

2 sometimes 3 but usually 4 baltimore city white and blacks with the narrow strip of lights, the cameras were on nearly every major intersection on martin luther king, jr tonight here.

not that i’m paranoid or anything.

i had $33 in my wallet, a georgia driver’s license in my wallet chained to my shorts, and sported a black wife beater and had texas plates.

if i was one of the cars pulled over to questions di rigeur i have 2 numbers that usually roll immediately to voice mail if i called from jail because i’m brown, Queer, alone and don’t fit in my surroundings.

at airport security, i give myself an extra 45 minutes because i am always, always, always, always pulled over, hands swiped and ran, bags and ANYTHING ELECTRONIC xrayed at least 3 times. i am always wanded and brushed aside to collect my property piece by piece by piece while holding my jeans up, belt in hand, and slipping on loafers. they’re motherfuckers. all of them. every single one of them.

today in north beach, white mothers in family clans walking the boardwalk looked at me hard up and down and verneer of white privileged disgust in Queers with my Atlantan medicine bag around my neck brought out the presumption of my being possibly featured and read as having an Native indigenous heritage. Sneers ensued.

So by the pale faced mothers, and curious looks from males, I kept a low profile.

Back at Chris’ we shot an interview for her film with a fucking beautiful camera and hot microphone with lens that autofocuses so you don’t have to be concerned with keeping the camera level and moving manually. Nice. It was fun.

Back in Baltimore, I drove gingerly through the 3.78 miles from getting off 95 to my front door. Cops were on every corner. So were Queers. This is Pride Baltimore week-end.

I saw Cops detain female sex workers and run their flashlight up and down up and down the front of their faces blinding them and pushing the women away down Charles between 23rd and North.

As I lay dying in the hospital, I would watch the Baltimore skyline and helicopters coming and going to/fro the hospital roof.

Back in my very old JHU property, helicopters continue to light up the sky with beams of light focused onto the streets to the North, East and South of me in Charles Village.

It is what it is.


Published by jen padron

Mover and a shaker. Comrade. Community Bridger. Creative. Filmica. Sentimentalist. Imminent. Emergent Social Action. Change Agent. Voted for Hillary (2008, 2016).

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