Among the refuse and ash cans and the girls hitching up their skirts down along the walks of Horatio street are the kids with dirt under their nails trying to hustle for some mouthfuls of stale bread from Vinnie’s place shouting at smartly dressed passerby’s walking speedily past towards Chelsea with heads buried in newspapers reading of tragedies elsewhere beyond the streets in front of them pretending they can’t hear the cries from the street echoing like lions roaring in the jungle growing frustrated at the lack of red meat licking their lips sharpening their claws with hunger growling in their bellies as they plot how to pounce on unsuspecting zebras walking through their concrete savanna
Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.
Musing & Creating with T.J.S. Sherman 
I like how you positioned this at the center of the poem, as it is also the center of the matter:
“with heads buried in newspapers
reading of tragedies elsewhere”
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I was reading about the Ashcan art movement and how it was trying to call attention to the population in cities ignoring some of the darker aspects of culture, so it seemed to be a fitting line to fit in.
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