When I was a boy

my father took me to see Gargantua

at the circus.  He was in a glass cage.

He ate lettuce.  He was surrounded by gorilla feces.

My father looked up—he had hoist me on his shoulders—

and I was rubbing the head of a black child whose father had

hoist him.  Vertical integration.  We mixed with

colored people in public.  At the circus.

At parades.  At public events.  The schools

were still segregated so we had separate

but equal spelling bees.  My father took me

to the state finals because he wanted to see

House of Wax in 3D.









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