Rudely Awakened

You can dream all you want, but, sooner or later,
The landscape as it is will seize your mind, or else
You'll trip and fall. I know this because I have
Dreamed and fallen.

I met Reggie shortly after I began to work where
He did. Break was called. I'd gone to smoke,
And when I came into the break room, all the seats
Along the tables where the whites sat chatting madly
Had been taken. Reggie sat atop an unused stack
Of chairs back in a corner. I sat on the stack by his,
And we grew friendly quickly. We both spent our
Working hours lugging boxes, filling shelves,
And talking as coworkers do, kidding, saying,
“Hey, remember?” when we'd hear some old soul
Song, leering, coarsely complimenting, pretty girls,
Black and white.

Reggie'd do whatever people wanted for some extra
Cash. He worked on cars, did home repairs, but, still,
With kids, he had no money. He would come from
Time to time to ask if I'd give him a “loan,”
I would. He'd never pay me back, but I am rich and white,
And he was neither, so I didn't mind. He was my friend.
I helped him move a couple times, and he invited me
To come to celebrate when he got married.

Taken to be someone else because of my light-colored
Skin, I heard how whites regarded Reggie, and, though
Not surprised, the things I heard disgusted me. Almost
All whites are wretched racists. They'd call Reggie lazy,
Though he worked at least so hard as them. The bosses
Watched him carefully. He didn't get invited to
The get-togethers after work. That was the landscape
We both walked, but I preferred to dream.

Reggie'd often ask me if I had some work which he could
Do, and I gave him a couple jobs. He tore up our old
Patio. I paid him, though he hadn't finished. It took
Quite a while to get him to come complete the job.
I paid him in advance to haul away some brush in
The back yard, but months went by. Now, years have
Passed. He left the place where we had worked,
And hasn't said a thing to me since then. He neither
Does the job nor pays the money back,

So I've begun to wonder whether he and I were
Truly friends. Perhaps a lifetime of mistreatment,
Slurs and sneers and accusations, turned him hostile
Toward all whites, or maybe he saw loans and payments
For the work he never did as reparations he deserved.
I doubt that I will ever know, but I was forced to stop
My dreaming as I tripped and fell.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 39 times
Written on 2020-10-23 at 22:00

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