I don’t know Eric Garner so I don’t particularly care that he died.
At 16 when the PA system announced that Kennedy died
I couldn’t understand why everyone cried.
I guess I’m cut off.
I only care about the people who are close to me.
I don’t climb into other people’s pockets and try to pick out
I am not a rapper biting on other rapper’s rhymes.
If I’m to care about Garner
I have to mourn for each person who dies throughout the world
On each day.
I wouldn’t have time for the dead in Syria.
Not to mention Somalia or the Ukraine.
Or Isis’s decapitated.
I’d have to drape every steak that I eat in black
And call a funeral service for its bones.
OK, I am human, I will throw a side glace at Garner’s demise,
Not a choke hold,
Just a questioning look.
And I will wave a handkerchief to him in my unconscious.
He is fat.
I wonder if he was jolly.
I wonder why I am so cut off and yet I accidentally care.
If Garner were my plump son the one thing I would ask is that Sharpton
Or Obama didn’t show up at his funeral to pluck at the bones.
The Gurley family made the right move in forbidding publicity robbers
From the grave side of their son, Akai.
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