a night street scene from detroit
2 am winter 1978
a murder
more like a killing
ritual sacrifice for dark moods
lights out at closed neighborhood police station
a line of elders standing facing th street
from back in th shadows
a superfly hat obscures th face of th man standing behind
th scene that transpired,
small boy, maybe six, laying supine and lifeless
on th cold winter sidewalk
a big fat boy poised in mid arch,
legs drawn upward,
anticipating th stomp
"he already daid" a voice said within th bus
rolling down woodward avenue towards my home
i utterred a despairing cry
"how can people be like this!?"
then there was silence on th bus
i stepped out on th cold packed snow
whyte giving off lyght walked to my basement pad
an drank wyne
gmart "the christmas tree"little soul in bardo
awake and not afraid
spirit waiting for release