I was walking my dogs around the neighborhood.  I stayed along the shady side of the street.  I noticed a light-skinned black girl—a woman— in attractive rosy, revealing gym attire, walking briskly in my direction on the other side of the street.  When our paths neared she crossed the street, heading towards me. There was no reason for her to cross at that point, I thought.    She wants to soak it in.  She wants me to soak her in. It's all becoming clear to me.   You're a virile bull with a flaring nose-ring—you're the inspiration behind emblems.  Stallions beseech you; your only faults cause earthquakes.  Yea, you're carrying shit—you're altogether dignified.  You'll clutch her bountiful clusters under a waterfall.  Wipe the peanut butter from your mustache.

As she approached, she smiled and I quickly went through my repertoire.  So, what? So, uh, you from around here?  Nah, too brutish.  Methinks—Ah, idiot!  We should work out—One of my dogs started barking and moved aggressively and she swayed away.  I didn't know what to say.

"She must be racist," I said.