manhunt

"1-2-3 you're my man – no safety locks!"

He held his prisoner firmly by the top of his arm.

A tiny ten year old bicep trapped gently as all four feet skipped cracks on the concrete.

Their footsteps, light & quick – just like the beats of my heart as I listened from my hiding spot behind the mean neighbor's driver's side rear car tire.

Well, it was a bronco.

A black & silver bronco parked strategically four row-houses away from our jail stoop guarded by the prisoner's sister.

She could not run very fast, which is why she played the jailer every time.

I could not run very fast as well, but I was good at hiding.

Hiding behind mailboxes,

Cubbies in the alley,

Bronco tires,

And mom's house – even though that was against the rules.

We all need a break sometimes

For a push-up pop

A pee break

A sneak peak at what the grown-ups are watching on TV

We'll understand when we get older.

Just go back outside & play.

Cmchale 122508