Tuesday, February 2, 2010

The Boy Died in My Alley

My best friend lives in NYC-Washington Heights to be exact. I visited her this past October on a trip. Sitting up in her apartment, even with the windows closed, in the middle of our crazy shenanigans in preparation for the next day's parties, I heard men yelling on the street below, a woman's scream, more yelling, the sound of flesh on flesh. I waited for the pause in conversation, for one of them to go to the window, look down, suggest what we should do. Nothing. No pause, no looks, no concern. For all I know, they beat that woman to death. I'll never know, because the screams stopped, and we went on talking and laughing.
"I have closed my heart-ears late and early".

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