Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2014
Put your hands up, walk back slowly, suspects of what?

We were driving through Louisiana, returning to Alabama
after  visiting a dying friend.

The Highway Patrol doing, I guess their duty,
got behind us, we saw it coming in the rear-view mirror.

We braced, knowing two black men, only
riding I-20, because of our skin color, in 2014, were suspect.

Stopped, we told our stories, since they were the same,
we were just given a ticket, DWB.

Drivin' while Black.
wordvango
Written by
wordvango
509
     aivustianumus, Raina Grace, r and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems