Arrest

Perched sidesaddle on the windowsill
I giggle and peek
down to the other side
of the street at the girl

being pushed from behind--

being guided,
hands bound
behind her back,
to a cop car.

She looks armless.

Her protests sound
at once limp and strained.
The feel of them
through the glass
makes my stomach go sour.
And I can't look
anymore.

My friend,
whose window this is,
mimics the girl's moans
and says,
Maybe it'll finally
be quiet around here.