Today on the street
a crowd—all reds and blues—congealed around a body
the egg white face uncovered
yet something in the twist of her mouth
suggesting she had already floated away
like a teardrop balloon
leaving me and the city far behind
I remembered this street
filled with the jazz of gossip
oohs and aahs and sudden bursts of surprise
but today the only talking was done with shoulders
and sirens as red and distant as a forgiving God
My hopscotch eyes landed on a cigarette
caught between long fingers
the smoke curling around like sorrow
and then up above an emaciated cat making its get away
a chaos of a mouse exploding in its jaws
all splayed and sparkling in the late morning sun
A mother hugged herself tightly
hair covering her right eye
to protect her from seeing too much
but still she unraveled
as the body syncopated along the sidewalk
between the two bulky blue figures
carrying my stretcher
