Chinatown

A fire truck makes a left onto Broome into three lanes of oncoming traffic, lights flashing. Sirens light up from every direction.

On Grand I feel a shift in the air like it's about to rain. I see a woman half-keeled over a fruit stand. Another woman, a stranger, touches her and looks concerned. On the ground by her feet is what looks like a busted tomato. The woman holds her nose. She pulls her hand away. Nosebleed. 

On Franklin three men shove the sideview mirrors of a Time Warner Cable truck, yelling “scab.” The man inside writes on a clipboard pretending not to hear.

On Crosby a cop car sits behind a pulled over Uber. The bald white cop stands half out of his door arguing with a bystander. The guy thinks the cops harassed the Uber driver. The cop has his phone out, filming. “This man is harassing me,” the cop says for the camera.

On Walker it’s late and I’m walking the dog. Nearby a black man rolls a joint. Peeking out from around the corner is an unmarked car with two cops watching. My dog and I stand between them. 

Does the man see? How do I warn him? I kick a can. No reaction. 

I walk in front of the cop car to go. They don't take their eyes off him. Just then he gets up and follows me. The cops don’t move. 

The man walks next to me on the sidewalk. I tell him: “Those cops were watching you. Keep moving.” He slows down and looks at me: “Shit man, I know.”