i’ve had this job with the paper nearly six months now,

working the hours after the night men leave,

before the day men come on and i have to

get to school.

the klan doesn’t think much of the paper.

or its editor.

but mr. alexander,

he gave me this job,

he got me out of jail,

he made a set of three keys: the back door, the storeroom, the truck.

no one ever trusted me like that before.

i could climb pretty high with the klan, handing them those keys,

but i wouldn’t do it.

they’d use those keys,

i don’t know what for.