The Wall Belongs to Us Kids of Townborough Street

We'd been pitching pennies against the barbershop wall since we were very little kids. We played handball and pop fly against that wall. Last month in the night, some cops got rough with the Morris boy because he was out late and didn't answer their questions fast enough to suit them. They rammed his shoulder against the wall and might have done worse if Mr. Yubang's hadn't happened along. She told the cops that the Morris boy was a fine person, just a little slow. So they let him go. You're destroying evidence. I said to the painter lady when she started making big sweeps with her brush. And that's all my mama would