to Crispus Attucks and the attack on Rodney King / Los Angeles, 1991

Crispus, don’t show-up in Los Angeles.

you’ll be cranky no doubt. stay calm. lie still where you are.

It was you who first fell upon the cobblestones of Boston,

sneering at the Redcoats:

“You Damned Rascally Scoundrel Lobster Sons of Bitches”!

It was Paul Revere himself who'd document your cry for history.

and man, that was a good one, Crispus; up there with:

“don’t shoot ‘till you see the whites of their eyes”!

but what did it get you but two musket balls

to the chest where you dropped stone-cold dead

staining the cobblestones of Boston with your blood.

we know who you are, Crispus; you are the first blood shed.

you’re the new crucified. stay put, Crispus.

there is no dreaming there. there is no violence there.

Los Angeles on March 3, 1991 was dank-grey under its bully-clubs

and not only that, but nobody makes movies on the lots anymore.

Crispus, enjoy your realm of death in the company of patriots,

and way out west of Clara Bow, ZaSu Pitts and Rosalind Russell.

man, that Rosalind,.. she was something.

and you are something, too, Crispus Attucks and the fierce

blood-spilled, your black, native-American Indian blood

is forever etched in stone.

stay put, Crispus. don't go to Los Angeles.

and, oh.––  thank you for your service.