Tell me, Muse, of the boy with the red backpack
Walking with a swagger in the diversity-filled Queens.
Tell me how the bus would take him through the noise
To his serene, tree-lined block just off Hillside Avenue,
Sing to me of his repetitive routine,
Train to school to train to bus to home.
How he would grow more and more weary each day.
Sing to me of that rainy, stormy day, when the people of the baggy pants approached,
And demanded of him all his possessions,
Putting at risk the life so precious to him.
Laugh gently and tell me within a heartbeat he turned and ran,
With light-footed Hermes running at his side,
Until the loosely-clothed men were not in sight.
Tell me how he sprints all the way to his house,
Rushing in and locking the door, heaving a sigh of relief.
Remember, Muse, and begin your story.