Luyện nghe bài hát King Park

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the crowd out as the shots drowned into siren sounds, out of there houses now
And over front yards, all the way up to the place where the police tape ran to mark the 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 hit? Where'd it hit him? And who could've it?"
Everybody wondering, "How did it happen again? And is he dead? children. Our kids."
Everybody how far they were from where the victims lived.

And I them, their houses. Inside my dream I visit them.
My spirit, high and high up over King Park, leaves the crime scene, travels further back
far before the shooting, through their windows, to their living rooms.
I see younger this time, playing games and doing homework.
All these marks of youth soon transformed coldly into 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 made plans. The family.
Three days later a had to bury her son.
Not far away the shooter holed up in a hotel to the highway with a friend and the gun.
That gun.
He immediately but was identified by witnesses, his picture on TV.
Only 20 years old, they called him "Grandpa." He was older the others by a year,
two.
And he was safe for awhile until saw him there
and the authorities
Who surrounded the hotel, arresting an accomplice while attempting to flee
Then chasing him up the staircase to the floor where he'd stayed. He closed the door
Behind him, locked in the room.
They could've in the door but knew the gun was still with him
One he'd already and so they feared what he'd do.
I floated up through the window of a to the West.
I out to the hallway, tried to listen in.
I heard trying to reason, get him to open the door.
His uncle begging and pleading, to the floor.
He preached of and forgiveness
said, "There is always a chance to rectify what you've taken, your peace in the world."
I thought to through the door, I could've entered the room
I felt the of murder, it sthe earth to the core.
Felt the world was collapsing. Then we heard him speak
"Can I get into heaven if I kill myself?
Can I still get heaven if I kill myself?
Can I ever be forgiven I killed that kid?
It was an accident I swear it wasn't for him!
And if I turn it on me, if I even it out, can I get in or will they send me to hell?
Can I get into heaven if I kill myself?"
I left the hotel behind, don't to know how it ends.