Usually busy street to my left
But there's not a lot of cars today
Sundays I think the people are sleeping

Bright sunny day
And the trees are bright green
Big and full with a summertime sheen
Midsummer solid
The sky a lot bluer

Sunday of summer no work to be done
They're busy not paving the street

Plastic barriers orange and white
Hole in the ground
No one around
No one is working
Bulldozer abandoned

I don't hear the birds
At least not in masses
A couple I guess
Mostly the breeze my footsteps there too

And those guys by the gas station

I'm walking towards them
They're standing pretty close together

White guy in a backpack
Looks 20 or so

Darker man too
He looks Mexican
I can't really tell
Long black hair
And hairy complete
Arms are densely packed
Beer belly full

Third is a bald man
A bald white head tall
Aggressive his eyes and wrinkled his face
Long black shirt gray pants brown boots

I can't hear them talking
I'm too far away
But things don't look so good there next to the roadwork
Next to the gas station

I'm approaching the intersection
Not busy nope
One street goes up a hill
The one to my right
To my left the road ends
Turns into a park

Gas station ahead
Quikmart there too
Not one with the sandwiches doughnuts and booze
Just cigarettes candy and energy drinks

Just four pumps underneath the canopy
A tree next to the sidewalk

They don't stand in the shade
The sun beats them down
The bald guy is shiny
Glint in the glasses of young backpack man
He's wearing his sneakers

As I get to the street
(That hill one remember?)
Anxiety rises I see more hand motions there's beckoning now
Bald man points behind them
Head whipping around and his mouth is wide open Shouting and shouting I still can't quite hear what he's saying

Beer belly stands with his hands on his hips rock forward and back then forward and back
Glasses is seething red face arms are crossed

People here now
The people next door
One maybe two
It's now three or four

They came from their doors in pyjamas in shorts
With crust in their eyes; they’re cereal born

All of us watching
we wait and we watch
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know”
I don’t know

Holy fuck there’s a swing
Now the bald guy is swinging
The mexican’s falling his face is in blood

Punch and a smack I see limbs what the fuck
“What the fuck?!?”
What the fuck’s going on

Now the bald guy’s on top of the mexican fists going up going back going down
Bracing the self with the beer belly but somehow the backpack comes down with a splat on the back of the bald guy’s head

He’s seething the eyes are all narrow, white with rage but now on the ground. The mexican stands and straddles his stomach forcing the air out of reach of the lungs. He reaches his hands to take hold of the bald man’s neck.

Oohs and ahs from the crowd I think someone might call the police

The young man with glasses now taking to kicking he’s kicking so hard and so fast he’s determined to fuck up the bald guy so flat on the ground

At this point they’re filming
(the neighbors you see)

They’ve brought out their phones
Getting quite close
Weaving and dodging the full metal blows
Hopping in hopping out with a yip and a shout

I guess I’ll film too, I’ve never seen anything like this before
And I bet none of them have too
What a weird little thing what a strange confrontation
Still green are the trees and blue is the sky

He’s running! (“He’s running!!”)

He’s running away!
The kid with a backpack is up and is out

He’s running up the hill
Left the others behind
Backpack swinging side to side

Me and two others
The neighborhood lads
We chased him
With our phones in our hands

Up the hill shaking so shaky the footage
The foliage green still trees still the trees

Up we go up we go silence but footsteps and panting we’re all panting
Trying to get a good shot. Breathing and stepping sound of 8 shoes.

We’re pushing each other now the neighbors and I
my angle is too narrow
He keeps running out of the shot
Well I keep running out of the shot

Running straight running fine going up getting tired now my legs are on fire

Trees thinning out nearing top of the cliff oh
Yes there’s a valley below
Bushes of yellow those four petaled flowers
Blooming full under pale blue sky

An intersection approaches two streets now the option
One to the right heads downhill the other one straight
I think, I think, that’s where he will be, towards the damn cliff
Other two still they are still right behind him
I stray to the right towards the downhill

I was right!
He veered and went down the street
And I followed him close
The rest left behind

We go downhill now
Easy on the legs, easier now
But gone are they, gone
I follow behind
My camera out
It looks better wide

To the left I see hill and flowers yellow in between the green leaves. The sun shines through the sticks speckling the dirt.
They go up the hill disappear into sky in a straight, slightly curved to the brilliant blue
To the right is the same but downward they go
and the trees start to grow
what a view what a view
when the valley explodes
In magnificent bloom
in the distance are fields
A lake I see too

Houses the suburbs underneath
I see roofs I see pools
I see the road twist and turn into serpentine small

It is quiet again
Just me and him
Running, still running
I’m running with him

I’ve figured it out
The scene now a scene
Has materialized in front of my screen

The shot is now smooth
He’s running in tune
With the yellow behind and above the blue

I’ve got flowers background now him in front then I pan to the side now the backpack in center great valley screen right lens flair it highlights new bright he’s running towards the end, the dead end where the road meets the cliff before starting again.

Dust kicked up sound of footsteps so heavy his dust in my lens my dust in the clouds

Not stopping he’s not now he runs still and my shot even better now cleaner now fun but he’s approaching, approaching the valley gets bigger the ending before us no stopping no stopping no stopping for now and a

Leap

Off the edge

I’m filming him still
Man poised in flight arms and knees bent the soles of his shoes and the backs of his hands

Disappears into flowers the blue takes him in

Did I see end? Or was I mistaken?

The neighbors are back
Out of breath
“Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know”
I don’t know
I don’t know where he went

I tell them the truth
Show them my shot
My beautiful scene

They mumble around
Then call the police

I’m walking back home
I’d rather not talk
I’ll send them this tape
Hope they look hard