Stargazing, Stumps and Bullets

Arizona sunset
Hues of azure, violet and orange
Slowly gave way to blackness
And out popped the stars.
The sultry desert wind
Kissed my hair
As I sat on my stump seat in our front yard.
There was the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt.
Stargazing…Interrupted.
My sister and brother decide to watch a movie.
They beg me to make popcorn and watch, too.
Mom grabs her purse and walks to the corner store.
Dad is sleeping in the bedroom
And the baby is toddling around the living room.
Cruella DeVille plans to skin puppies
And outside the living room window
The yelling begins.
It drowns out Cruella.
My sister cries.
Men are screaming
Then there are gunshots
The rest is a blur
Of ricochets and shattering glass.
I grab my brother’s leg
Reach for my sister’s arm
and drag them onto the carpet.
I pin the baby down
I scream-
I feel a sharp pain and wetness on my belly
I landed on my glass of water.
I hear the neighbor boy running past the living room window
Toward the side of the house
They are trying to kill him.
He wants a place to hide.
Brother holds the baby down
While I crawl down the hallway
I throw my body against the back door
And scream for my father.
It takes all I have to hold the door shut
As the neighbor boy screams and Goddamns me for
Not opening the door. He bangs
On the door and white paint chips
Fall like snowflakes onto my black hair
Dad sees me holding the door
and throws his weight against it, too.
The neighbor boy gives up
and runs through our backyard
He tears through the laundry on the line
Dad’s white shirts are lying in the dirt
He hops the fence, tearing my honeysuckle vines
We hear the gang chase after him.
Gradual Silence.
I have held my breath for an infinite minute
and am stock still until
The baby shrieks and I shake and begin to cry
Dad holds me for a moment
Then we crawl to the living room.

Outside there is silence
Soon broken by sirens
The phone rings—mom
Still at the corner store
Wanting to know we’re ok…
She heard it all and started to run toward home
but was held back by the Chinese lady and her husband
Who owned the store.
We walk outside—
There seem to be stars on the blacktop
Shell casings sparkle in the night
Softly illuminated by street lamps
Police lanterns shine
Soon we see a campground on the street
On the sidewalk
In our front yard
Little orange tents number each casing.
Dad’s car tires are flattened and there are two bullet holes in the door
Our window is broken and a bullet went through a wall.
Dad thanks God that no one died.
My stump seat is full of holes.
The next week we pack up our things
And leave Taylor Street.
I never stargaze again.