numb

we shoot. we kill. we get angry. we march. nagin does nothing. riley refuses to step down. we get angry. we shoot. we kill. we march and still another person is shot dead, this time at 7:50 at night in the french quarter. 39 years old. great personality. dead. and for what? whatever cash she had on her after her shift at aunt tiki's. think about her last bits of conversation. little shreds of laughter. all the while never knowing that death was coming for her. she turned a corner of a darkly lit street and then a shot and i hope she was dead before she hit the ground so as not to have suffered. what will we do now? will we march? will we call for riley and nagin to step down? will we get angry? will we shoot? will we kill? what happens now that this boat is sinking? numbness sets in. we have been in the noisy war for so long that if the silence ever came it would be deafening. so we eat. we drink, often too much. we love. we are loved. we hope. we pray. we cry. we mourn. we march. we get angry. we shoot. we kill. we die and someone pours the dirt on top and goes on with their life, life such as it is in new orleans.