New York 1989 2 AM

I saw a Street Kid shot thru the head

On Amsterdam.

I never saw the collapse for the taxicab that had

Dropped me off got in the way.

Moments before the taxi driver had offered me

His wife & daughters.

He said that I could do anything

I wanted with them so long as he could use his new

Digital camera.

It was an ephemeral moment,


The sound of the gun echoing thru the


Of New York City & the City swallowed the


As it swallows its children.  

Sirens, screams, shouts. I refused

My hotel room.

What a show New York puts

On for its tourists & free as well.

I bathed in

The electric flashing lights & drowned in the

Cops’ orders.

In a huge black bag, they

Scooped the trash up like I do at home. In the

Morning, I went to where the Street Kid was

Shot & there was a dry clot on the tarmac & concrete.

There was no white line depicting a murdered

Street Youth

Like in the movies.

I was disappointed for I had bought a cheap

Disposable camera.

Richard Wainborough

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