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Big Angry Black Man

It is dusk. A public park. A walk along a water's edge. It is 85 degrees and the evening air yields a gentle breeze. The gravity of a radiant orange circle of sun pulls the sky's colors under as it sinks into the distant horizon.

Walking entranced, I turn my dreamy gaze back forward towards my path, and see approaching me a very big, very muscular, very dark-skinned man. At the sides of a well-fitting gray uniform he firmly holds fists in perfect harmony with his empowered gait. Within his brow and between his features swell bulbous contortions. I find the expression therein fascinating; simply a marvel how a single expression on the surface of the face can contain so much information about what's happening deep inside.

We continue towards each other, my sunset-intoxicated gaze now fixed on this new marvel.

Finally the man turns his low-set eyes to meet my eye contact, but before they can silently demand What are you looking at? I beam a smile at him, and I say out loud, "Looks like you've had a rough day!"

Instantly his granite expression melts and he laughs! "Yeah, it's been a long one."

Still smiling and looking him square I say, "But now it's over, and now it's this! Right?!" and I gesture towards the still water into the sweetness of orange and blue and hot pink cake batter decorated tastefully with gauzy cloud frosting.

The man, also still smiling, looks to my hand extending into the lusciously warm, breezy sky: "Beautiful, isn't it?"

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