Chicken Bones in Chinatown

I stepped on a bloody chicken bone on my way to work today. The crackling it made under my new Payless shoes was revolting and the stain in left on my sole, while small, was noticable. I would not mind chicken blood on my seven-dollar shoes if I were walking on a farm, or past a butcherery, but I was walking by a construction site- already made filthy by the dust cloking the breeze.

The dust gets in my eyes and mouth, a gritty salt taste left in my lips and a dump truck in the way of me and where i need to go. The black people and immigrants in the run-down houses breathe it in all the time, it coats their children's lungs and escalates their taxes.

Soon the neighborhood will look more like me. Soon there will be no chicken bones to step on.