They sat around, body odor and
cat urine polluting any breathable
oxygen left in the trailer.
You couldn't move one way or
another without a definable trail,
floors carpeted with bottles, clothes,
items that never made it
to the trash can, if there was one.
Another left food rotting on the stove
and needed it pointed out
as if it liquefying, somehow,
did not set off her own screams.
The last house of the day
wouldn't let us in but spoke through
the small crack in the door,
where ugly odors hit my nose
like a police siren, and I untensed
as she came outside instead.
So we stood directly under the
4 o'clock sun with the mom, and
son who punches mailboxes
and puts his fists not only through
windows and walls but their whole world.
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