I never saw a parade on my street.
Daddy wrote that the Irish wouldn’t march in our neighborhood. They wouldn’t let us march in theirs.
Why do two wrongs make a right?
They let them paint a green line down the middle of Fifth Avenue for Saint Patrick. Why can’t we have a day off from school for when Malcolm X was shot?
We tried to have a parade last summer. We had soldiers and all, just like when the American Legion has for its Veterans Day parade. Our soldiers had real guns, real bayonets, real bullets, read grenades, real tear gas. They were at the front of the parade just like all parades.
But they didn’t lead the marchers. They shot them.
Mommy didn’t write about that to Daddy. He’s a soldier.
I painted my windows with flags and bugles, bands and floats, with parades and music… bright colors…and some dark …for the marchers who got shot.
I never sold seeds like kids in some schools. Daddy said there was no place to plant them…and they wouldn’t grow without sunlight.
Other kids sell seeds and have sunlight. Why do two wrongs make a right?
They say that plants are green. Are they green like the traffic light?
Ours used to be green but it broke about 3 months ago. Two kids got killed ‘couple of weeks ago ‘cause somebody forgot the green didn’t work.
Are plants like that? I hope they don’t kill nobody.
Daddy wrote they don’t, ‘cept sometimes they kill plants so they can kill people. He wrote that’s what they’re doing in Vietnam.
I painted my windows with seeds and plants, trees and flowers, leaves and grass…bright colors…and some dark…for the people that got killed.
I never had any pets. Daddy wrote we couldn’t afford to have pets. The preacher said last week we couldn’t even fit into the story in the scriptures where the rich people threw crumbs to the dogs. Where we live the rats get all the left overs and the dogs starve.
Why do two wrongs make a right?
When the rats went down to Park Avenue to all them rich apartments the Department of Sanitation set traps and poison to get rid of them. Where we live the Department of Sanitation lets the garbage stand in the streets so our rats get fat. They ain’t no kinda pet though.
Daddy said when he comes home things will be different. Maybe I’ll get a pet then.
I painted my windows with dogs and cats, birds and fish…bright colors…and some dark… for the rats we’ve got to keep ‘cause nobody else wants them.
I like my painted windows. They let me see a lot of things I wouldn’t otherwise see. They’re mostly happy and bright and I have a lot of things in my painted windows.
Mommy just got a telegram. Gee! I never saw one of them before. A man brings it right to the door. ‘only person ever comes to our door is the landlord wanting the rent. He’s alright though. I painted him in the window with the parade.
Mommy says the telegram says Daddy won’t be comin’ home. It says he “died in Vietnam fighting for his country.”
Why do two wrongs make a right?
I BROKE ALL MY PAINTED WINDOWS!
(a poem written in 1969, by Philip Jurus)