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There was a dumpster in an alley
Looked like a black bear in the road
There is a stain of blood, a Sixers cap
And the stench of piss and beer
There was an outskirt’s glow of lamplight
From a half a block away
And there was the ghost of greed,
The ghost of fury and the ghost of fear

There was a charred spot in the gutter
That would slick up in the rain
There was a half tin can
That been burned over the brand (name)
Tall windows paned and plywood, where houses closed forever
And the every night mosquitoes
With no intent to land

There came an old dog with a bad limp
He had a slow gait and a hunger
There was some pigeons on a wire
And they were open-eyed and still
There was an aura to the whole place
Like someone else was lurking
Such is the history of where someone has been killed…

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