The first to walk past is just a child

Short pink skirt flaring in the wind and dyed hair whipping across her shoulders

Eyeliner and lipstick is deftly applied as she walks, afraid of her destination

A fur lined coat hides the bruises and scabs on her arms

She fades out of my line of vision, going to turn off the red light

An elderly man shuffles by on a homemade cane

He has a lengthy beard, bald head hidden under a rotting cap

Skin flaking from his face and hands onto the frozen ground

Ready to beg

A child next

School bag limp with only homework, no money for food

She cradles a pencil in her hand, a rare goody in this part of town

Hair greasy with lack of cares, adorned with sad ribbons

A mother follows in pursuit

Long drags on a cigarette

She goes unseeing, not knowing of the world around

Shuffling pink holy slippers.

Then a mother with babe, laden down into her bony arms.

Her shallow breaths bleed warm onto the chubby child face

Adoring smile but skittish body, afraid someone may take the child

She rushes past, refusing me a good look at her

A grand daughter, chewing gum like shes in a marathon

Like chewing that gum will make the demons fly away and whatever is chasing her stop

Her face, barely there, skin stretched taut against bones

She takes wide bold steps, feigning confidence in herself and the world

She stumbles

A crack in the sidewalk and she breaks down, Heaving sobs

The gum doesn't help, the demons won't go away, and her facade is fading away

A little boy rushes up to the girl, looking concerned beyond his age

He carries what appears to be a rock in one balled up fist, and he holds it like a lifesaver

When the little boy reaches the girl she seems to set again into a stone hard face

Looking at him with such authority, not unkindly but hiding any evidence she was crying

Grabbing the boys hand, she pulls him down the sidewalk to a church like building

But this church has barbed wire and no saving grace

It gets late into the evening, past dinner time and dusk takes the streets

Even from two blocks away I can feel the rumble of the bikers

Passing through town on a one way trip to hell

They're the typical gang clad in leather and hairy faces

But in the front leads a motorcylcle, purple handlebars and black bear body

Behind the over tall wheel and squealing gasoline you can see HER face

The leader, that girl, the one everyone respects, and if you saw her face

You would see the apparent fear that resides inside her, hidden

And just like that the bikers leave, only the scent of gasoline to know they were here

If you leaned your nose into the wind, took a deep breath, you could also smell the fear

A patched ball hits my chest, impact heavy for its size

The owner runs after the ball, grin lighting up his face

Glasses fogging from the moisture in the air tonight

Carefully combed over hair, shoes obviously second hand but shined to a T

What catches me is the tie

So easily recognizable as a table napkin though he wears it with such pride

Such honor, like that "tie" could defeat everyone and make him king

At least, thats what you can see until the alley carries the voices of them

Those boys who sag their pants and wear snapbacks every day

They are the only ones this little boy is afraid of and who could blame him

They are the bullies
And this is the ghetto, if walls could talk