He thinks to himself
Keep your head down
No eye contact
Just work your
Way there
And finish this torment
His hands are shaking
In his trench coat pocket
And they rattle a loose coin
Against the metal of the
Snub nosed revolver
Carelessly tossed
Into its current place
There is a little boy
Walking alongside him
Just a smaller version
Of this man
Only wearing a faded orange
Winter coat
That’s getting a little too small
The boy looks up
At his father
And says
‘I’m hungry
When do we get
To eat?’
The man shoves his
Hands into the coat pockets
And cradles the revolver
‘Soon, son,
We just have to stop
And get some money
First.’
The boy looks down at the
Top of his battered converse
And mutters the response
‘But my stomach hurts.’
The man stops
And turns to face the boy
‘If I had something to give you
I would
But I’m starving too
And I’m the only one
Who even tries
To get us money.’
The boys’ eyes well up
With tears
And he has
No response
The man doesn’t notice
Those tear drops
Falling in front of
His sons’ shoes
The next words
He spits at the boy are
‘Go wait for me
Across the street.
I want you to watch
And learn
How to take care
Of your family.’
So the boy waits for the
Signal to cross the street
Then the orange hand
Switches to the
White walking man
And he follows orders
The man watches the boy
Trudge across the intersection
And sit down at the
Bus stop
Then the elder works
His way down the street
To the nearest alley
And leans next to its
Entrance
He checks once more
Making sure his son
Hasn’t moved
Then takes to watching
Pedestrians
On their way to work
The boy feels
His stomach
Gnawing on the
Inside of his ribcage
But averts his gaze
Back to his father
There is a brief
Moment of panic
When the he
Can’t find his
Guardian
But then
Discovers him
Leaning against
A wall just down
The block
His father seems to
Be studying the
People walking past him
Looking for something
Specific
Then a man in an
Expensive suit
Passes in front
Of his Father
And both disappear
Into the shadows
Time seems to slow
For only a moment
The boy wonders
What his father is doing
Then a gunshot sounds
The expensive suit
Stumbles from the alley
The snub nosed pistol
Shaking in his hand
Screaming for the police
And the boy still
Waits
Patiently for his
Father to bring him
Breakfast