He pulls her out of the car. He hits her with a brush. Her face bleeds
and screams. Her voice does not penetrate. Nothing breaks
but the grass at the park bends to the wind of her breath.
He drives away with a screech and a slammed door.
I pass by on my bicycle. I watch this scene looking for the end credits.
From under my helmet my hair whips around my face. I double
back. My mouth and eyes are dry and wide. Do you need help?
Girl, I want them in jail. They’re going to jail tonight. A cop car drives by.
I drop my bike to the ground and wave the cops down.
I have an extra shirt. I give it her to stop the blood.
Girl, thank you the police don’t care bout this.
I give the police officer my name. He calls an ambulance.
As I ride away I wonder who will pay.
My helmet dangles from the handlebars.
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