The following figures have been seen by the author lurking and gliding like shadows through the eerily lit night around Midnight in Middle River these last few weeks.

A wiry white boy sitting on his BMX bike, leaning against a light pole in the empty thrift store parking lot, starring, entranced at his blank smartphone. His smart phone lights up, he startles to an erect position and peddles off to the west.

A young, bald, dark-skinned black man, a lightweight, wearing all black attire, stands on an all black BMX bike, on the peddles, balanced perfectly in the middle of the sidewalk in front of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church. As I pass him he shadows me like a ghost, never getting behind me, staying on the parallel walk like a ghost , peddling at a mere three miles per an hour, the bike chain clinking with every turn of the peddle. When we make Middle River Park and I walk ahead of him, he glides off across the grass, still clinking his peddle only one time to glide about five yards, until he reaches the tall decorative grass that shields the dope-dealing park benches from the street view, to stand silently on his peddles, awaiting I know not, seeming to listen intently like some primal hunter to the voices of the night wind.

A large, fit white boy, on his swift mountain bike, who I have seen acting as a bag man at a bike rally deal, comes ripping down Stemmers Run as I offload and cross the street. He skids to a stop in the Thrift Store lot and looks at his smart phone as it lights up. I open my flip phone to check the time and the light catches his eye. He looks at me and makes a hand signal and I shake my head “No” as I close my phone and head off across my own, darker parking lot.