A single drop poised on the glass rim
gleams under the eye of the sun
Children run by
Playing games that children play
Absently kicking the clutter from their path
In the gutter lies,
An abandoned ragged, urine yellow
"Police: Do Not Cross" line
The other day
I saw them using it as a finish line
For their relay race
Imagine those little boy feet
in old funky tennis shoes
runnin' fast as they can
Joy in their eyes
Smiles on their lips
Laughter chasin' their behinds
A quick 10 second high
All racing toward a yellow strip that
one day will surround
more than one
of their
dead, black bodies