Even in the dawn of the autumn season,
I could hear the bell ringing,
bringing me out of a sound sleep,
or perhaps it was the rustling of leaves against
the soft fold of white sheets. 
I quickly made my way to the streets.
Resisting
lifting my eyes, remembering, albeit painfully,
to a time when I loved the stars.
(When did the streetlights become enough?)
I dreaded the face that would appear before me
as I waited in a poorly lighted room 
with a fold-up table and two plastic chairs
that seem like they once belonged to a lawn set.
Finally, he entered, 
moving like a drunken penguin 
to the tunes of the radio that were
periodically interrupted by a rallying cry-
“We need to be unified, for in this wonderful land we’ll take our stand.
We are one people, steel-like in resolve,
who have never cottoned to tyranny.
I pray you remove all seeds of doubt 
and obstacles in our way,
I believe in his grace, He will not look away!
(Hooray!)”
Silhouetted, I could not see Emmett
‘till he moved closer, the soft light penetrating his face.
Hardly the figure I envisioned responsible for the “Black reign of terror”.
Before I could speak,
he chimed in,
“From Shooting galleries to salons,
and liquor stores to lecture halls,
I have transformed self-defense, 
taking it to its natural end.”
He then stared at the ceiling,
and shot a smile my way.