He complained about the quality of cocaine to a drug dealer on a street corner at 2:30 am. The seller shot him.
* * *
Three pieces of ugly ghetto trash stay on the way down the escalator to the subway tracks. A woman tries to walk pass them, they laugh while one blocks the way. I push the trash to the right and wish it would fall down and disappear. Forever.
A group of black and Hispanic ghetto youngsters get out of an apartment complex. One of him holds a baseball bat that hides in his underwear. A cop car passes by, stops. It’s afternoon in the city.
A black young woman is sitting on the sidewalk of a deserted street, afternoon. She screams and moves frantically, dances, shakes the head voodoo-style. A firefighter’s truck stops, four firemen get out and look at her, chatting between them and laughing. An ambulance pulls over, a paramedic talks to the woman. All of them leave, the woman dances and smiles. Then walks away. The street gets dead again.
