Chillin' With Oakland Strike Team Four On A Thursday Night - Poem by gina prettybrowneyes
Before the rioting, we’d made friends
With the firefighters sitting in their lawn chairs.
Vivianne tried on the pants, boots, jacket, helmet, wielding an ax
To run around the truck (that Bettina and I had sat in, ogling the buttons, levers, gauges, codes)
We shared stories: college life, crazy vagrants, and protest marches.
A girl came by with her guitar and we rocked out
To Jewel’s “You Were Meant for Me”
We waved goodbye. (They had orders to return to the fire station)
The Southern One, The Cute One,
The Lieutenant with The Funny Little Beard,
The One who Sang.
(A half hour later)
Outside my room: chaos, girls dashing for their cameras and ID’s
Screaming to one other “You coming? You coming? Yeah I’m coming! ”
At the street corner,
I watched as their truck, number twenty-eight, approached the fire set by the anarchists,
Wearing the gear that Vivianne had just tried on, side-stepping
Police trucks roaring by.
I got it all on video, gasping in surprise, “Those are our firemen! ”
Tracey’s words of caution regarding the G-20 came back to me:
“Shit is gonna go down! ”
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