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Jeffrey S. Thompson |
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Sunday Lunch Sunday afternoon we head to Golden Coral We're dressed pretty fine just returning from church services The black church has also let out and they are with us too. Somehow they always look nicer in their Sunday Clothes Somehow we lack style but it is Sunday and we are restful and all is fine. I stand in line with the other men waiting for Rosa to cut us off a piece of the steak. We make small talk as she sweats and cursing over the meat. She cut off a large piece as I walked up and lobbed it next to the corn at the table I noticed blood blood blood pouring onto my plate mixing with mashed potatoes and beans Blood coming from the sides and up through the flesh The waitress brought a pitcher of fruit punch to four boys, well dressed, eating pizza, chicken and steak. I got her attention. I can't eat this I said Look at the BLOOD! Look at the BLOOD! She took the plate away and I tried again Rosa was still cursing and sweating over the meat At the table I cut in, dipping a little of the meat in the gravy. It was just starting to get good when the boys jumped to their feet and began screaming One had his arms out - waving them screaming and gagging. One side was saturated with fruit punch and bits of food. The pitcher of fruit punch was gone. Not spilled but vomited across the table Then they smell came and my six year old starting pointing and giggling He threw up Daddy! He threw up! They rushed the boy off to the restroom, then they all went to the restroom. The waitress towled red vomit into a bucket and I finished my steak and beans. Mission Girls The black girls walk between the stopped cars at the intersection They carry yellow buckets collecting for something moving from car to car August in Houston and the pavement burns from below their bellies exposed and hair pull back and sweating great beads from their brow. One puts a sign to my window Support Calvary Baptist Mission, it reads She looks at me with an emotionless hot face I shook my head She moved on the light turned green and the cars began to go They made no effort to move to the side of the road only pulled in their yellow buckets expressionless waiting for the next group of donors. The Rehab ...rehab, the person, there isn't one more disturbed - ill "hey man, I've been there, I know." he takes off a $300 pair of sunglasses they've dropped the booze, dropped the dope picking up god and the shopping malls none of them are any richer or closer to freedom |