  "I walked into the Maverick Bar in Farmington, N.M." (after Gary Snyder) I walked into the Maverick Bar in Farmington, New Mexico and hoped that nobody would notice me. I had driven for 10 hours straight to get out of LA. I knew that I was going to be adding some color to the bar, but I never realized how much. I walked in and I trembled by the hairs along my neck that stood up out of fear of lynching. My stomach wouldn't let me leave though. It had been 14 hours since I had eaten anything and a bag of chips would cause my stomach to erupt in covulsions that would only lead to some kind of car accident. If I wanted injury and possible death, I would have stayed in LA. I left town looking for a way into Mexico. Life that I knew in the City of Angels was officially over until somebody decided to be serious about changing things for people of color. I had never been deceived about things. I knew that Lincoln didn't want to free the slaves. I knew JFK didn't want to end segregation.
I knew that decisions were always about politics. The heart of the country was not really down with giving me the rights that I had and were quick to snatch them from me if I got too high on my horse. The Maverick bar made me forget the reason I had left LA. I was terrified about what would happen if I hung out there too long.
I wanted to make sure that let Marshall Dillon that I was only in town for some grub because my stocmach was not going to make the 100 miles to the next Denny's. I needed to get somewhere where the Patriot Act maybe known, but not rigorously interpretted. All of us on the street of LA never understood how the war on terrorism got turned on us, but we were not surprised. Somewhwere in the middle of changing the elevation of terror alerts, the attorney general decided that bangers like me were domestic terrorists. More than that, he decided that we were more dangerous than all those militias in the Pacific Northwest who are plotting the take over of the country. The only things we were plotting was how to take care of ourselves and the achieve the American Dream.
When the edict came down and the military began to patrol the neighborhood, I had visions of the West Bank and that was not the way that Iw as going out. I knew enough to get out of town because no matter how much I wanted to fight, the army had me outgunned. I was not going to be on the evening news throwing bricks at tanks and listening to people try to persuade me to strap bombs to my body. Not only do I value my life too much, but I also saw that no matter how many suicide bombers took the path of martyrdom, it didn't change policies and it didn't change opinions. 
