why did the...?

the brother just wanted to get across the street. from one side of the damn road to the other, just like the chicken. why, you ask? i don't know, probably just because. and he almost made it. almost.

it's not so easy when you only have one good leg, the other cut from the knee down because of war or drugs or disease. it's not so easy when you're on a pair of rickety crutches. it's probably also not so easy when the street sits smack in the middle of the city.

but he's used to it. he's the kind of brother who's been around the block for a minute. san pedro, sixth, san julian - all of them, a place called home. he knows how to get around, he knows when the lights change from green to yellow to red, he knows when the red hand turns into a white man walking and when that white man turns back into a red hand, only this time it's flashing.

"it's really not so hard," he'll say.

but he's wrong, it is hard. especially if you're black. and you're homeless. and you're poor. and you're dirty. and you wear the same smelly shirt everyday because it's all you got. that's when policemen riding around on motorcycles find it necessary to beep their horn and flash their little lights in the name of public safety. that's when a one-legged homeless man needs to be educated and taught a lesson. that's when walking outside the painted white lines becomes a crime.

a certain interaction that ended with jesus healing a cripple on the sabbath is coming to mind. remind me, what did the pharisees say?