Death at the Door

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Nobody was tending to him,

the slightly twisted man

sprawled on the sidewalk,

so I presumed he was dead,

blood around his mouth

and a small pool on the ground,

two doors down from a gay club.

Two cop cars there, but they were

only interviewing potential witnesses.

I walked on, knowing

I wouldn’t stop thinking about him.

He was young, beefy

on this first day of Pride weekend.

Marriage passed in New York state.

Did someone take it out on him?

Or was it personal?

His friends didn’t seem to be around.

No shock. No sadness. Just an

oddly twisted young man

with nobody helping him.

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Voice Recording