untitled.

holy shit.

hearts pounding. legs are burning.
we were running through a foot and a half of snow like it was nothing.
like there were jackels behind us.
because there were.

crazy.
a perfectly quiet, peaceful winter night turned to complete insanity in about two seconds flat.

it's about that time when i notice the red dots on the ground. following me.
do they have lazer sights on their guns?
you've got to be shitting me.
time to go faster.

across the tracks, through a vacant lot...

by this time i had lost the friends i was with, but that is the standard procedure.
like gazelle versus lion. they can only get one of us if we all go different directions.
may god have mercy on their souls.

i paused in a thicket of trees, trying to catch my breath and figure out how the fuck i'm gonna get outta this mess. all evidence has been ditched. that was priority one.
brain is racing, but not coming up with much. i can see more squad cars flooding the area.
i've got to move. go.
shit.

i make my way across the lot, and over a fence into someones backyard.
it's ok, but the cops will come though and give it a quick once over.
time for my favorite tried and tested evasion method: go the direction least expected.

up.

back up the fence, followed by a leap to the roof of the garage.
face down. 2am. in a foot of snow. on top of someones garage in on the southside of milwaukee wisconsin.
how the fuck did my life get me here?

cops came and went. so did about an hour and a half.
stay silent. don't move. they might see you. where are they? did everyone else get away? shit.

goddamn it's cold. i have to get down.
start to come down. stealthly as possible. hanging from the eve, drop into the backyard.
ok.
shit.

just then a slight movement catches my eye. fear washes over me...
but as quickly as it does it gets washed away by relief. it's a face i recognize.

out of all the yards, in all the neighborhoods, you had to crawl out from under the porch in mine.

poetic.

we walk to the bar on the corner, looking guilty as hell of something, i'm sure.
trading war stories from the events of the evening. still constantly checking over shoulders.

we offered everyone in the place $20 for a ride across town.
they were hammered. no takers.