Luyện nghe bài hát King Park

Another shooting on the side. This a drive-by, mid-day
Outside of the bus stop, by Fuller and Franklin. Or there.
Not far from the park. About a block where the other shooting was last month.
Or was it last

were fired from an SUV heading northbound, Eastown
The target a rival but didn't hit the target this time.
They hit a kid we had nothing to do with it.

And I travel backwards through time and and I disintegrate, become invisible.

I to see it where I couldn't when it happened.
I to see it all first hand this time.
I to know what it felt like.
So I float police lines, reconstruct the scene in fragments of memories.
I want to know what his looked like up close, I want to see her leaning over his body.
So I float there, transcend time. I to capture it accurately.
I want to know what the color of the was spilling out from the tarp onto the concrete.

I to write it all down so I can always remember.

If you could see it up close how you ever forget how senseless death, how precious life.
I want to be there when the hit.

And the crowd poured out as the shots drowned into siren sounds, out of houses now
And over front yards, all the way up to the place where the police ran to mark the crime scene.
Everybody trying to catch a glimpse of what was
Of what was going on the ambulance and all the cop cars.

gossiping,
"Whose kid got Where'd it hit him? And who could've fired it?"
Everybody wondering, "How did it again? And is he dead? These children. Our kids."
Everybody wondering how far they were from where the lived.

And I visit them, their houses. my dream I visit them.
My spirit, soaring high and high up King Park, leaves the crime scene, travels further back
Till far before the shooting, through their windows, to living rooms.
I see them younger this time, playing games and homework.
All marks of youth soon transformed coldly into stone for fights and stupid feuds.
For ruins in gold. And cruelly I recall why I have come: To find a reason. But
There be a reason, not for death, not like this. Not like this.
Three days later they funeral plans. The family.
Three later a mother had to bury her son.
Not far away the holed up in a hotel near to the highway with a friend and the gun.
same gun.
He fled immediately but was by witnesses, his picture on TV.
Only 20 years old, they called him "Grandpa." He was older than the by a year,
two.
And he was safe for awhile until somebody saw him
and the authorities
Who surrounded the hotel, arresting an accomplice while attempting to flee
chasing him up the staircase to the floor where he'd stayed. He closed the door hard
Behind him, himself in the room.
They could've kicked in the door but knew the gun was with him
One he'd already used and so they feared what do.
I floated up through the window of a to the West.
I hovered out to the hallway, tried to in.
I them trying to reason, get him to open the door.
His begging and pleading, half-collapsed to the floor.
He preached of hope and
said, "There is always a chance to rectify what you've taken, make peace in the world."
I thought to slip through the door, I entered the room
I felt the of murder, it sthe earth to the core.
like the world was collapsing. Then we heard him speak
"Can I still get heaven if I kill myself?
Can I get into heaven if I kill myself?
Can I be forgiven cause I killed that kid?
It was an accident I swear it meant for him!
And if I turn it on me, if I even it out, can I still get in or will they me to hell?
Can I still get into heaven if I myself?"
I left the hotel behind, don't want to how it ends.