this morning #20.

this morning, they awoke to a scream. across the block. long & shaky. cold & frozen…& then, it was done. quickly. bed-stuy loft. former warehouse. an art school somewhere nearby. it was sunday. far off, a church bell rang. she looked at him asking, "où est ce lieu que nous avons choisi?" there were no more green fields. no more small streets. they had not yet discovered upstate. naked, he, up towards the window & lifting the blinds, letting in grey from the morn. the streets were empty, the sidewalks were not & the scream didn't cut through at all. life just went on around, no regard for that sound of what probably meant less than murder. this was this. that was that, so she pulled on her shirt & she tied back her hair & she joined him to peer down below.