run around the corner,
They hide behind the rusting car,
Only to steel their nerves and make their move again,
The scream awakens neighbors,
The laughter that follows, settles scores.
Down the street a man is doing repair work,
Dirty blue jeans pulled tight with a cord string, he shuffles from foot to foot like the one hurts and the other's no good,
He places the brick, square in its place with his only hand, then stands up again to retrieve another from the wheel barrow.
He doesn't stop for the screams and laughter, just hobbles his work day away.
The kids point, uniform behavior in uniforms. Establishing rank through bullying more common than books and folders. Jokes are muddled, nudges forwards as if a shove of a foot or two could nullify the distance.
As if burn scars could spread through the air, as if missing limbs could be replaced by a child's misstep.
The neighbors do nothing, Watch the children making fun of a lonely man. Perhaps they are more familiar with his story, perhaps they've created the myths that provide laughter. Myriad possibilities, not one reconsidered,
so we all become the hangman.
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