Night-time blanket shield me,
the Shadow Walker,
from shady dreams
and nightmare vision.
Thunder in the earth,
this ghetto is shaking,
the sound inspiring
wild dances.
Milk-White and loathed,
the Pale Ghost moving
quickly through alleys,
and thoroughfares teeming
with ant-like lines
gathering what they find,
and corner-boy-soldiers,
front stoop eyes,
night and day the same
in summer.
No friends in this jungle.
Must stay awake and aware
of every sound and face.
The contours of broken bricks
ahead on the sidewalk:
throwing stones,
bone breakers.
Survive.
Jason G. Thompson 
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