One time
we made an unconscious turn
and wandered amidst the cement steles
each great monolith like the other
fire doors and fires escapes
gray statues on a cement pond
where litter floated
here and there
like dead fish.

We did not know.

“Hey, white girl”
a low male voice called.

It was a ghost
among the massive tombstones
reaching across from beyond.

“Hey, white girl!”
it barked
the rumble of a watching wolf
in a dense and shadowy forest.

It was late afternoon
the sun was swollen
the shadeless walks were empty
the concrete boxes
reached high into the sky
summer burned
and we did not know.

Her eyes were wide
when I looked back
and her pace quickened.

I paused so she could pass me.

A sandwich wrapper blew across the sidewalk
to collect with the others
resting in a cluttered corner
on a bed of broken beer bottles.

We did not see the wolf
or hear the young man’s voice
but we walked faster.

We were naive
and white
and suddenly nervous
that Sunday afternoon
accidentally
walking through Cabrini-Green.