Why did you think my hands were up?

*badge of silence*

and I had obeyed all your commands to that point?

*badge of silence*

I don't understand...

ok, lemme put it in front of the barrel of your glock
this way -

If you pull over a man suspected of a non-violent crime, do you get giddy or does your stomach turn?

*badge of silence*

if you scared, say you scared

*badge of silence*

be invisible like
you think we are
until BOOM - you probably enjoyed it

*badge of silence*

I'm sayin'...If your gun goes off accidentally,
then who put your finger on the trigger? who shot it for you?

or, it just fired itself?

*badge of silence*

got it.

you weren't even there right? you were watching some other officer exercise his discretionary rights when encountering a citizen from the perceived lower tier of the socioeconomic ladder bc of the past exigent circumstances of such encounters with other members of the same community and how descriptions get mixed up especially during the middle of the day with no clouds out?

you're probably surprised my pants sit on my waist or that I work for a living...I'm not. thank you for being you bc we needed this. your shot was off
(not your aim but you were scared - I knew it)

bc bad training or none at all or too much black and white and I'm the enemy. damn, I have so many questions.

and I survived. that's it.
I can tell my story bc the cameras are never enough are they?

*badge of silence*

it's the little victories, you know?

*badge of silence*

did you say something?

*im sorry. I don't know why I pointed my gun at you and tried to kill you on purpose*

finally, we start to get some answers...
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myself is sculptor of
your body�s idiom:
the musician of your wrists;
the poet who is afraid
only to mistranslate
a rhythm in your hair...
-E.E. Cummings