wet newspaper

the basement steps smell like wet newspaper. i drag the glass panels up, one by one. they are heavy and coated in gray dust. dead flies drop from the aluminum frames. i jam the first storm window into the bedroom sill. it takes two punches to make the latch click. supposed to keep the autumn chill out. i am just trying to block the sirens. the screaming from the parking lot next door. i wipe a smear of dirt off the glass. my knuckles are bleeding a little. down on the street, a dog is sniffing a flat tire.