They scissor-run the narrow lanes early mornings in the silent predawn. Uniforms bulked protectively, Kevlar, Velcro, helmets with riot visors, black boots, the laces interlaced and tied down, the eyelets full then of lace, boot-tops holding carefully the pant-cuffs. Some hold assault rifles or battering rams or breaching shotguns or flash grenades or flowerpots or sniper rifles or stun grenades or submachine guns. From above: a maze of trailers, each trailer adjacent from every other, and before and around the trailers, cars, rusted or not, and pickups, new and old, some alarmed and lowered, the windows tinted, others open and leaking, their oil gathering in tiny gravel puddles. Trailers in many sizes, single or doublewide, silver bullet, RV, others. They scissor-run up the tiny steps, knock or don't, batter the doors or splinter them, or simply open those that are unlocked, then flood inside, water-like, silent and quick, and we, all of us and others, are tossed from the doors the windows to the oiled gravel, where we're battered and held down, where water's poured over our hooded faces, or tar, or oil, where these others remove their cocks from their uniforms and piss down into the pool of us, and there's laughing as others are tossed into the pool forming then a greater we. Do we include Barbara, Carson? Do we include their parents in the moaning sleeping torrent of us, writhing now in the pit of us? These others, these thems, scissor-charge the trailers, battering the trailers to pieces. They sort and destroy sort and destroy sort and destroy. Near the blackberry hillside, a pit for us. Oily gravel beneath, and above: batteries, cam shafts, cars, drapes, drywall, end tables, engine blocks, fenders, gasoline, laminate flooring, lamp shades, monocles, oil pans, plastic sheeting, radiators, seatbelts, sinks, spark plugs, televisions, timing belts, toilets, transmissions, window frames, wood paneling. Will they set it aflame, us beneath, all of us, Carson, Barbara, mothers, fathers, more, the families of us, buried between gravel and trash, between parts and wholes, melting then into some new form? The sounds: bangs, booms, cracks, cries, crunches, dirges, fucks, groans, hiccups, hisses, kicks, lamentations, moans, psssts, shots, snaps, thuds, thwacks, weeps, whips, whacks, yelps.

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