Bitter

Usually as a sacrilege, I stood on my head and peed into my own mouth as a chimpanzee might on bikini night promotionals.

There are jobs — and then there are the odd messes of oddnesses.

Working two jobs — the second one in a factory that made terrycloth track suits.

I got me a terrycloth track suit. I got me me an orange-faced watch.

I liked my orange-faced watch. I was a bit uncertain about the terrycloth track suit.

And then a couple of “well-off” others criticized my new presents. Then I found these gifts full of faults. Saw these gifts as they saw them.

A poorer version of…

We seemed to always have a poorer version of. Not only were we poor, but we apparently were without clue or taste.

Tasted bitter then.

So I can confirm that I conformed — and went one better: I became the clown. I became the chimp.

Until I wasn’t. Until I saw the dynamic clearly. Until I saw you for what you were.

“I’m not going to let the fact that I live in a nation with a bunch of fools make a fool out of me.”

— Nikki Giovanni / The New York Times, December 12, 2020.