Vultures

One more… this one less about Zach, more about the city, how violence is weaved into our consciousness until we believe it is natural, normal, and beyond our control.

Vultures

I peek between blinds dusty
On my fingers, nails,
Black with dirt; I watch through slits
The blood from kick after kick
A head on a curb, dirty with
City grime and lost hope and fury.
A body curled fetal around a tire
Desperate to stop the pain.

I close the blinds
With a quick clip of my fingers,
Flip my cell and make an anonymous call.
I sit on a ratty couch and drink
A cheap beer and think of the time
I saw a vulture
Eat the eye of a dead sea turtle,
the smell forcing my eyes
To take another direction and leave the bird
Alone with its dinner.

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