Store
by Raymond Nat Turner
Now, I wasn’t Yuri Kochiyama
amidst toppled chairs, gun smoke
scented chaos, cradling Malcolm’s
heavy head on the Audubon Ballroom
floor as his double ought buck shot
pocked chest oozed ruby rivulets …
I arrived at the Asian elder split
second after the unmusical thud
of his head hitting concrete – after he’d missed
the curb, stumbled and fallen on 14th and Broadway
I didn’t worry whether or not scarlet streaming
from his temple was HIV or Hep C tainted; I didn’t
worry whether or not some right turn-making, out
of control driver would wipe us out; I didn’t worry
about an out of the blue lawsuit; I didn’t worry about
Blu klux klansmen seeing me; seeing blood; seeing
me; seeing blood; seeing me kneeling beside the Asian elder –
My magic gun – seeing me rifling his pockets robbing him …
I worried about napkins and band-aids in my backpack
being sterile – or not sterile
I worried about speaking softly as I stanched crimson
streaming from his temple
I worried about being in over my head – and just then I
spotted EMT and asked an onlooker to flag them down
He did. And they came; they saw; praising preliminary
work and taking over. No sirens. No flashing red, white
blue and yellow party lights. No yellow tape theater. No
surly sauntering for overtime. No gruff barking. No dis-
respect. No baton blows. No frame-up. No dead samaritan.
No violence workers – I could breathe and leave High …
Raymond Nat Turner © 2021 All Rights Reserved. Raymond Nat Turner is an acclaimed poet and performance artist. Find more of his work at http://upsurgejazz.com and contact him at upsurgejazz@gmail.com.
