the sound of gunfire on the empty street
it comes from miles away and yet you quake
it's been too quiet if you'd made a mistake
the answer and the shock could both be fleet
but right here right now there's no one to greet
all sensible folk the public ways forsake
if they fear a stray shot their lives might take
and they can't trust as single soul they meet
what happens is they venture out a while
and see that everyone's coccooned at home
while isolate police cars roam the roads
i found this out i walked alone many a mile
and i seemed the only one who chose to roam
while others squatted fearful grim as toads
Odd ravings, comments, and other wastes of time. Some are in plain prose, yet others are in rhyme.
29 December 2006
kingston october 1980
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