Letter to Gabriel Written in the Margins of Murder Ballads
(Continued from Page 13)
Jake, gone almost a year. Woo-Woo, gone. Feral cat, gone. Harry’s down the street fixing his station wagon in the cold. He said the cops used my house in the 8o’s to watch the dealers on the corner. The whole block abandoned back then. Sniper in the bay window, dead man on the bricks. 19 arrested. The black stain on the bedroom floor refutes the belt sander, shifts from history to history, outliving us, passing deeper. Stanley’s drunk again, his walk more song than speech. He asked me once if I was rich. The porch fell off Scott’s house and made the news. Someone’s burning wood this evening, the Masonic Lodge quiet. I lean from the window to feel it slip past me. All of it.
(Continue to Page 15)