outrage

I am posting, without comment, but with fingers trembling with rage, the diary that my friend, Weeping posted at My Left Wing.

I was just stopped by the cops while smoking a cigarette on my own stoop, as I do multiple times a day.
I know all the neighbors, who walks their dog, who parks across the street, who's attractive, who goes shopping: I see it all.

But this time, someone saw me.

Or thought they did.
As I was smoking a cigarette, talking on the phone, a police car pulled up across the street and stopped, dead in the middle of the street.

In the back of my mind, I thought somehow this would involve me, but immediately dismissed the thought as paranoia, looked around for some kind of trouble, and proceeded to watch the cop get out of the car and head right towards me.

"I have to go," I said abruptly to my friend, "The police are here."

"Do you live here?" The cop inquired.

I just stared right at him, incredulous (though not really, I know better) and indignant.

That's what it was, indignation.

"Yes." I said tersely, "What's happening?"

Someone called in that there was a "young black male" on my stoop who didn't live there, and did I have ID.

The next maybe seven minutes (the entire duration of the encounter) is more or less a blur.