portland, oregon: a lamp-lit park

the sky has dissapeared into a blue-black haze. a few neon helicopters buzz overhead. across the park, a group of bellowing homeless men crowd around a picnic table to smoke something out of a glass pipe.

a red sedan parked on the steet near the table has its windows rolled down. it's leaking a hip-hop song with a beat that sounds like a crinkling paper bag.

one man laughs loudly. it's jagged, like it it's caught deep in his throat

or

like its struggling through the branches of a fir tree.

"he fell in love with a prostitute," the man shouts into the night. i can tell by the way he says it that he's shaking his head.

on the other side of me is an elementary school, softly lit by golden streetlamps.

a young guy in tight cutoff shorts is practicing on a fixed gear bike. when he tries to stand up, his calf's tighten. like david's "marat," his muscles are shaded and pale all at once.