in the dark place
The gang behind him is swinging tire chains like lassos. He cuts into Woodward Avenue’s fast night traffic, horns honking, headlights spinning and the shouting behind him fades as he reaches the other side breathing hard but safe, safe in the dark place where the dark people live. Paradise Valley. He stops, bends over gasping. His clothes are black with sweat. Finally slowly he begins to walk. A patrol car flashes a spotlight then crawls by. The dark place. Where the dark people live.
beneath this skin
The first blow cuts open the back of his head. He sprawls onto the cracked sidewalk. Billyclubs hammer as his body jerks, his back his legs his arms. Blood gushes into his mouth, gurgles in his nose. Silence. And a click. Through bloodied eyelashes he sees a gun pressing his cheek. Ever so faintly, his mother begins to singhis eye is on the sparrow…
in the street
a perfect strawberry