The red man's hand says no
but the white man says yes
so with a flex of my sneakers I
walk with the cars
trying to find my way home.
It smells like dog shit and
marijuana and dead engines and dead
brakes which are still squealing past like a
slaughtered pig, down the mountain where they
try to fly, ignoring the light that tells them to
STOP. For me
there are other obstacles such as
the half-eaten pizza and the half-filled syringe next to the
bent hypodermic needle and discarded condom, which has
as many ants feasting on it as there are on the pizza.
Alcohol drips off the path and
I make a game pretending that the bottles
of Jack Daniel's and Corona are Easter
eggs, except instead of chocolate yolk they carry poison
from little snakes who, bitter of having their legs chopped off,
curl into the bottleneck and
wait to strike.
It is the sparrow who hurtles out of the bush with a warning chirp
that distracts me from the snakes and as I follow
his coarse brown wings with my eyes,
he reveals to me the hills with their
luscious grass and orange poppies
waving at me to come, join them so that I may drown
in flowers.
I hesitate as I near the corner
wondering whether I should leap into the hills
and their orange-yellow flowers
and try to fly, ignoring the cars around me
so that I may stop...
There is no time to think.
As my toes hit the curb, the snakes
twist around my heels and the
white man flashes on.
I walk.
Points: 890
Reviews: 42
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