I.
I can remember when I was a child,
Long ago, or back in the day
I heard my grandmother speak an interesting phrase.
Now I can’t remember the specific circumstance,
Or even her inflection,
But I do remember her words
Each one just so:
“One monkey don’t stop no show.”
I found it such an interesting bit,
That night I dreamed of the circus.
Three rings, full audience such a scene
With lions jumping through hoops,
Elephants weightlessly dancing,
Acrobats flying aflame,
Bears juggling and singing,
And one monkey who wouldn’t budge,
juggle, or
flip, or dance or sing.
Mundanely sitting there on the sidelines
Impotent he had gone unnoticed,
He looked so silly, I laughed in my sleep.
And years later I woke up.
II.
October thirty first, two thousand and eight,
Nashville, Tennessee.
Standing there on West End with several of my homies,
Having just enjoyed a meal, we shot the breeze,
In the breeze, triumphantly
Laughing like warriors and kings.
It was chilly, I remember because I only wore a
hoodie and a tee.
Maybe in this weather I was trippin, but my gear said
Obama,
So I figured I’d be cool.
Yea I was too,
So cool that some passersby made their way to
salute,
They go:
Aye boy, you gone fo’ a nigger?
And at that moment,
The psyches of my compatriots combined with mine,
Into one singular dazed thought:
Nigga, what?
But when the shock had passed
And our brains moved on to reaction
They were gone—
And lucky the green light sent them down the street,
Cause otherwise we’d have “knocked they asses into
next week.”
And instantly, as if by sorcery
In that next second, our satisfied, expectant eyes
Shifted to third world glares,
And meekly we took it as our cue to leave.
III.
In the car, still digesting what was thrown at me
I began to question, this America in which I believed
Had I been hoodwinked?
Was this reality?
That cowards could speak with such audacious
cruelty?
But more importantly I was appalled at my self esteem,
How a simple gust of ignorant wind
could send my tower of dreams crumbling.
It didn’t matter what happened that Tuesday
cause in this
black boy’s mind
It seemed Progress was already defeated.
But stubbornly,
The divine in me wouldn’t back down that easily.
I fought that thing
Wrestled with it, all night long
And saw some things I did not want to see.
The moonlight shined and
Showed a darker spectrum of my blackness than I’d ever
known before:
From a fake revolutionary who wore provocative
clothing,
To a drunken, clownish sellout [at an all white
Halloween party]
who felt compelled to keep dancing,
To somewhere in between [maybe a pro athlete]
conquering the white girl and snatching for her
panties.
All of this was ugly, and all of this was me.
IV.
That night in bed, still wallowing in some defeat
I began to question, this Change in which I believed
Had I been cheated?
Yes, I was deceived.
The American Dream had never really been available
for me.
Outcast and
all alone,
There I was
Stranded like an island in a sea of NO
Again, this
black skin was deemed unworthy
And washed away was all my hope.
Looking back in wise hindsight I say these words,
Don’t let nothing keep you from going out to vote!
V.
Don’t do like I did.
That’s right, I never did.
Vote, that is.
I wore my t shirts proudly.
And hailed him unashamed,
But there was no vote from Cory
Cause he was an unregistered absentee.
Nigga what?
I know.
You what?
I’m sorry.
To my ancestors, brothers and sisters,
my wife, and unborn:
I’m sorry. Truly.
But if granny was right, then one monkey don’t—
Well at least I hope so…
VI.
On that Tuesday
Thinking that I had some time
That they’d announce near midnight
I sat down with an epic movie
Hoping to prepare for a more epic future
But my plan failed.
Two hours later I was disappointed
When I got that text
Hey!
Where are you?
Don’t
celebrate your president much?
What?
And I was out the door.
VII.
Racing down the stairs,
Through the campus courtyard,
Across 15th Avenue
And trying to catch a glance
Of this moment that I was praying
And hoping
And waiting for--
While it was passing away,
Slipping through my trembling fingers…
Out of breath I was too late,
Epic was gone and I had missed all of it:
From the last drops of smuggled champagne,
to the final words of a once unreachable victory.
Still trying to catch up,
Scrounging for crumbs of this win
I felt grandma’s words
Begin to well up in my tears…
And then I couldn’t help but wonder
About those two silly marauders
In all their cowardly glory and their speed,
Passing by on West End several nights ago
Hadn’t their Mee-Maws ever told them,
That one monkey don’t stop no show?
VIII.
That sage old woman was right again.
History will not wait,
Time is not our friend,
So we must use it wisely.
Let your voice be loud and bold—
You must, you must, you must go out and vote!
Cause like my grandma always said,
one monkey don’t stop no show.
