The Summer of ‘98-A Short Story

I remember the summer of ‘98 like it was yesterday. The sun was a relentless tyrant, and the air was thick with the smell of cut grass and dusty sneakers. The neighborhood kids, a motley crew of preteens with scraped knees and boundless energy, spent every waking hour playing street soccer in front of old Mr. Atley’s house. He hated us, and we loved the thrill of annoying him. He was the grumpy Goliath, and we were the plucky Davids, a soccer ball our only sling. The best player on the street was Kevin. He was a year older than the rest of us, with a mop of sandy hair and a cocky grin. He was faster, more agile, and had a way of dribbling the ball that made it seem like an extension of his own foot. He knew it, too, and his constant showboating drove me crazy. I was a decent player, but Kevin always found a way to make me look like a clumsy oaf, stealing the ball from me with a quick flick of his ankle or nutmegging me with a cheeky grin. One day, our game intensified. It was just Kevi...
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"I Can't Breathe"

I am on the ground

A man on my chest 

Another knee on my neck

Hemmed between tar and stone, and heavy bodies of my fellow men

How can I breathe


A few breaths I need

I try to speak

A breath of air is sought

Alas, dust from the ground, I welcome

My voice not heard

The pressure remains

Oppressively horrifying, to say the least


A breath of air still me eludes

Bystanders notice, the air I need

The blue and black, duty to care remiss

I continue to say “I can’t breathe”

Still he hears me not

Murder in public, repercussions not one, by those who swore to protect

Barbarism on display

Lynching days are back?

Humanity is gone?

Where art thou empathy?

Now I begin to cry, my mother I call


What am I?

Who am I?

A light to be extinguished?

A life to be snuffed? 

A person to be feared and executed on sight?

My body becomes limp

Another black and brown, dust becomes

When will this cycle end?


What became the promise to “protect and serve”

Innocent until proven guilty, a jury of my peers?

Dignity and liberty for all I was told, I guess the preserve of blonde and blue?

Are “all men created equal”?

Lip service at best


At this I pause, for I need to think, my heart aches with sadness, my eyes well up with tears

I should be worth more, life should be sacred

Dogs and cats, more goodwill than black and brown? Horses and all manner of beasts?

I shudder to wonder

My body in spasm


A social contract is severed, not for the first and terrified to say the last

Instant fatal justice lay in wait, for black and brown, offense of no consequence

Justice a right for most, a privilege to a few

Oh my, surely this is not America, "land of the free"? "Home of the brave?"


"All lives matter" and should matter! But some more than most it emerges

A big animal farm we have

Impunity is all

I still "can't breathe"

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