by Nancy Browne

Created on: March 27, 2008

Detroit

It was a day's drive
On the other side of the bridge
Through the sorrows of poverty
Where it seemed the law was lawless

Narrow eyelids mocked
As we slowly drove
Among scattered garbage and graffiti
Men gathered near an alley
Fist fighting violently

I insisted we stop
Are you crazy he replied?
As he pushed the petal to the floor
Until the next block was upon us

A woman on the sidewalk had fallen
At the hands of a man
It appeared the argument
Was in relation to the bag she was carrying

Stop! I screamed
Again, he gained speed
Running over boards and garbage
And bits of strewn paper
Until we reached, yet another block

The trick of grief he said
Is not to look back
This is how the other half
Live
You don't want to be able
To identify, he sighed

Young children lit cigarettes
A teen threw a rock at our car
Gunfire was heard
From a yellow house close by

A police car blocks
The next intersection
Its light of red beaming
Round and round
We stop and sit reluctant

My heart was pounding
Heavily
Another police car
Then another
A man runs from an alley

More gunshots
An officer waves us past
Yelling for us to get out
We move quickly
Though pot-hole streets

Don't look back
Was all he said

Learn more about this author, Nancy Browne.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.