Mary

She stops and stares at the people sleeping in boxes. She stops and stares in wonder, and the she continues past them She stops and stares at the police who drive by. She stops and stares and the drivers who honk and whistle . She stops and stares at the hookers on the street, and the she wanders on. She stops and stares at the rundown buildings. She stops and stares at the people in the windows. She stops and stares at an open door, and then she walks through it. She stops and stares at the steps behind her. She stops and stares at the ground six floors below. She stops and stares at an open window, and then she jumps through it. They stop and stare at her fallen body. They stop and stare at her battered face. They stop and stare at her scars. They stop and stare at the wounds of life, and then they continue on.