Monday, November 24, 2014

The Ferguson MO Grand Jury rules - Officer Wilson not guilty on all counts - Poem: 20 Drops of Urine

Read the Times article here.

Michael Brown, an unarmed black man, was shot and killed in August, by police officer Darren Wilson, 28, who shot him six times.

He lay uncovered in the street for four hours, with the excuse that this was a crime scene and the body could not be moved. 

Brown, 18 years old, and a friend, had allegedly stolen Cigarillos in a convenience store in Ferguson, Missouri. The shop manager called the police.

The jury deliberated for two days - 6 whites and 3 blacks - and were unanimous in acquitting Wilson on all counts.

The town is in an uproar now, late at night, with the mother of Michael Brown calling for calm, but also for further measures that police should take to prevent horrible police violence like this.

This is how change comes about.

We are profoundly disappointed that the killer of our child will not face the consequence of his actions.
While we understand that many others share our pain, we ask that you channel your frustration in ways that will make a positive change. We need to work together to fix the system that allowed this to happen.
Join with us in our campaign to ensure that every police officer working the streets in this country wears a body camera.
Since I'm watching Blue Bloods on Netflix, I wonder how Tom Selleck would respond.  I know how he would respond. He's the conscience of the police brotherhood.

Police Commissioner Frank Reagan is outraged. He and his family are discussing it right now at the dinner table.

Please pass the spaghetti.

This morning I had an appt at Quest Diagnostics in Jenkintown for lab tests necessary bc of my kidney transplant in 2011.

I have been having symptoms of a UTI - urinary tract infection - but rathan all symptoms, I only have one:  pressure to pee.

No fever, no chills, nothing. I don't feel sick.

When the phlebotomist, Jane, used the term "20 drops of urine," I knew that was the title of my next poem.

Got a call from my nephrologist today, Weds. Yes, I have an infection. Am prescribed an antibiotic for five days. It's called Levaquin.

Do not read the side effects or you'll never take it.

One of my UTI meds caused psychosis.

Sure hope it ain't this one!

Hi Dr Ghantous --

Here's a poem I wrote


The clear pee-cup awaits
we must check to see if my
UTI has come back
Monday is my test day at Quest
but I have called Nurse Sue to ask
if I could forge the doctor’s tests he
wants me to take, all because of that
‘pressure to pee,’ when only two drops
tinkle out on the upstairs pink toilet.

Yes, she says. Be sure to make the
checkmark like his – the balding man from
Lebanon, with the rolling stool and shiny
tasseled loafers.
After the check, you must circle
‘Routine Urinalysis,’ then “Culture”
no mistakes or they’ll know.

The entire being of this aging freckled woman
goes into action. I must pee on demand at Quest.
Immediately I down two
huge cups of Peppermint tea
a glass of water to wash my thirst
from my two-egg garlic mushroom omelet
then back into my parking spot
at Quest.

The place is empty. Like my
bladder soon will be.
Pony-tailed Jane does the
rudiments quickly
my Prograf level – which
keeps my kidney pulsing like
a little pocketbook within my
lower right belly – here
kidney kidney kidney –
she’s good and I don’t feel a
thing as I see her “God is Good”
sign by her desk.

I tell her my fear about peeing.
First, I must choose whether to use
the little kid’s word or the adult
multi-syllabic term that indicates
‘you are no longer young – the best years
of your life are over’ – pushing blond-haired
Sarah to the zoo in Austin where she’d lean
from her pram and wave at the chimps –
I don’t let on my fear, but say simply,
“Sure hope I can do it, Jane.”

It's like pleasing teacher.
Twenty drops is all I need, she says.
Twenty drops.
I sit in the waiting room. Read my book
for half an hour. ‘How are you doing down
there?’ I wonder about the clever elimination
system that is revving up for the splashes of
my mighty Niagara.

Sure enough, my cup runneth over.

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