Racism, For Instance

I’m sitting in my car watching and listening to the rain. The forecast says all day, all night and into Friday afternoon.

On the car’s fm radio, newscasters are doing stories on the City of Chicago’s Police Force and its history of racism.

News to no one, it seems, but the mayor of Windy City and his flunkies.

Now, I’m getting a text message from the singer for whom I play piano.

She’s changing keys on a couple three songs we are to perform at a benefit this Sunday.

She’s been revising these tunes since our rehearsal last Monday. And, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m looking at a completely different set list come show time.

Oh, well. There’s worse things in this world than a tremendous singer obsessed with sounding her best.

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About joefingas

I am a songwriter, poet, blues singer, and a boogie woogie piano player. I have a grandson but I have no children of my own. All my women have wised up and left me. I was a bum, a wino, a drug/alcohol counselor, a prevention/intervention specialist and a pretender. I have no more time to pretend.
This entry was posted in 12 Step Meetings, Blues, Co-Dependency, Denial, Fiction, Love, Memoir, Money, Poetry, Relationships. Bookmark the permalink.

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