Hurry up and wait.
Police and tourists buzz out.
We plan, conspire.
Walk to city hall.
Action!
Greg is climbing.
Bodies in the streets!
The earth is rising and so are we.
Reminding the world, there is so much we can do if we act.
Singing.
Chanting.
Adrenaline oozing.
Looking at the banner unfold in the sky.
The clouds dancing.
NYS declare a climate emergency.
Time slowing.
Speeding.
Plastic cuffs for protesters, not prisoners,
Notes my arresting officer.
On the bus to Pitt Street.
Hands behind our backs,
Constrained.
Playing games.
Singing songs.
Margaret Mead song.
“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.”
A dozen hours with amazing people.
Old friends from RTS and XUP.
Babs and Gil.
New comrades.
A history of protest in the holding cell.
RTS June 1999 sticker still there.
Just as the PSC sticker from December 2018.
Local and global movements dovetailing.
Dozens of actions since then.
Telling stories all day long.
Beautiful jail support.
You took the Brooklyn Bridge, my friend asked in London,
Where they glued themselves to the trains.
Crazy stories.
Lots of love.
Pizza and smiles.
Rebelling for something better.
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