dark window

3 am, the sound of gunfire crack! crack! so loud it breaks the air pirouettes between the stark brick and stone the trees like shocked dancers caught in a twisted rictus and then after a long drawn breath, a breath drawn in so long it presses at the lungs to escape crack! a third ring of that dreaded bell she is listening by the window hesitant, cautious, but yearning to be aware there is only darkness out the window, darkness and that sickly orange glow of streetlights all is still in the cool West Broadway air but somewhere nearby a woman is crying a siren's scream swells hauntingly by and fades away into the city where it goes she can't be certain but somewhere nearby a woman is still crying