While a woman’s dragged flailingfrom the street tonight (a protester,I see her teeth and jeans), my mothertakes the dog around the blockat noon in America.It is sunny.
I see nothing of America at noonin central Istanbul tonight, no Frisbeeshurled among the buildings, no boyswith pizza on the steps, no mothersabstractedly contentwith corgis.
Freedom Street grows narrowerand narrower. I see boys with shields,tear gas rising over Gezi Park.I hear the woman screamingher name, her innocence,again and again.