I met a man one time, he was sleeping on our back porch, I had to wake him and tell him to clean up his feces before leaving. But we talked for a while and he told us his entire story, all of it - starting from his grandparents, then he went into the plight of the poor and the black man, how everywhere you went you can't escape what's out there, you're surrounded by reality. He said many profound things but one thing struck, he talked about riding the bus and how on the bus you encounter the grit of life here in Oakland.
I was on the 1R today riding back from Berkeley to my place. Behind me was a young black man, he got up all of sudden and yelled something through the shut window.
"Did you hear about Ferg?"
He saw an acquaintance outside, waved him down and wanted to tell him.
"About Ferg? Did you hear? They killed him!"
Then he pulled down the window.
"They got Ferg this morning!"
The other guy nodded, he already knew.
And that was it, he got off the bus like nothing. Like 'did you hear the A's won today?' It's everyday, common. This is Oakland. It wasn't even shocking to me. I just kept on reading my book.
This morning I saw helicopters flying overhead making circles for a while. Maybe that was Ferg.