The insult hurls the night
“Fuck you nigga”
I’m riding shotgun with my friend
Hyped up urban mode
Masks on

A cinnamon skinned youth
clutches his anger
While brown brothers
Periphery
Smelling the signals of
Fight

The man stumbles over
Struggling between fear
Unshed tears
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you
Addressing my friend and me
My friend a recent stoke victim
Tucks her defeated arm nearer
I sit spine straight

He shores his spilling rage
“I just got out today
And already there’s someone
who wants to get hurt”
“I feel better when I hurt someone”
“But not you” he gestures to me and my friend

I try to vanish him it ‘it’s cool’ gestures
But he won’t be waved off
He wants me to understand
“I didn’t mean you, I’m a Native American
I’m a Red Man
He yells to the sky
Before he staggers off
In search of conquest

Did I understand him better? Yes
When I have leashed my pain
When it rampages on wary strangers
No
When wounded attack each other
Throw fist toward the perceived enemy