on a road on a ride on a carousel there lies a brown wooden rabbit which incidentally was the seat of a black man whose body was not allowed to enjoy its comforts which is ironic considering the darkness of the rabbit and the darkness of that man’s skin. it was at the park not too far from here where nestled in between the muddy potomac and the nation’s capital there was a midsummer meeting where a black man took up his seat on the shiny wooden rabbit and listened to the chimes, which came incidentally from a german company whose owner must have immigrated to this country dreaming of making money from intricate wurlitzer organs. and it was on the evening of this midsummer meeting when students converged upon the park as a small cog in a larger machine — much like the one rabbit on that one ride on that carousel in that park. and in the snugness of ebony night a white man approached the black man as he sat on the brown wooden rabbit and asked him what race he was as if this denoted how children should enjoy things as if brown children don’t like rides as if immigrant-made organs could not be heard by black ears, and on that midsummer night in a year removed from time in a place not too far from here, a black man rode where he wasn’t supposed to like the freedom riders who would board buses one year later.