Monday, November 22, 2004

There are two big beautiful red-tailed hawks that haunt the skies above Shitty High School. I have seen them twice circling high above Shitty’s scaffolded façade, graceful as the glide arcs across the cold grey Bronx skies. Once I watched one, as the other hunted high above, perched nobly atop a spotlight on a corner of Shitty’s roof. The subway rattled by, a car alarm cycled through its obnoxious chirps, squawks and wails. Some female students walked by. “Chikky chikky boom boom!” one of them inexplicably screamed. “Yo nigga, that bitch bout to get fucked up.” The hawk remained motionless, chest out, head high, one hundred feet and a mere world away from the anarchy on the streets and in the hallways, classrooms and stairwells below. I stood on the corner watching him, looking up, at peace. I could have stood there forever, but the bird eventually took off dropping a few feet and flapping his great wings a couple of times before launching up into the sky and over a roof out of sight, and I walked on into school to teach my afternoon classes.

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