Is when he slaps the sheriff -- a catalytic mirror made of hustler genes whisks us away to nowhere-- anywhere you wanna go
such that we understand the strife that ensues between two fantasies.
Both in need of some external regulatory force that they also body forth
So I've been trying to find out
that it is unprecedented; that it is infused with the plexed singularity of its fellows
The influx of freedmen
and when the calligraphy of their consciousness remains a secret, a rough privilege
When I watch it I'm so present I'm unavailable, it takes me to a place I recognize coping with, phobia of folk heroes, love of those I fear most-- I can't analyze this
Were they lying about the violence In the Heat of the Night
Was it tender on the side
