Dolly Campbell

In the dark
I hear jazz.  
It smells like B.B.Q.
Old men smelling like liquor,
sleep on the street corner,
they’re looking like skin and bone.
I hear freedom, but I can't run.
A fight is about to break out.
There's no where to run.
I look for my parents
who I can't find.
I scream for help.
My body feels like a rock,
just still,
waiting for someone to
give me a hand.
I'm lost, and cold.
I fold up in a corner
all by myself
and wait for