The sounds of the protest reverberated through the streets. Police on horseback formed walls, blocking the side streets, helicopters hovered overhead. The crowd pulsed and moved like blood in the veins. We held placards and shouted in time. People banged on drums and pots and pans and clapped their hands. Sirens wailed on either side.

Steel gates were pulled down or across the glass of storefronts. The media had terrified the small business owners and that terrified the public and then screamed about how we need to be stopped.

The fact they missed the point wasn't important. The fact they were afraid was. They were the old guard and they knew change was coming. They held on to the present like it was their mother's skirt.

We walked down the main drag, shoulder to shoulder and arm in arm, righteous and angry, trying to drag change along behind us.

But that stopped being important too.

For a dazzling second you turned around in the crowd and I dove into your green eyes and swam for years. You smiled and stopped, waiting for me and the crowd to catch up.

We did.