the police shot a young man last night,
high on bad LSD, slashing his neighbors with a knife.
he was a math wizard and a nice guy,
his friends said, and a rookie cop, inexperienced
and scared, shot him to death.
so i stand on the front porch with my neighbor, holding
a most spectacular several pieces of homemade
blueberry pie and discuss the situation.
this is not a dangerous neighborhood.
the people next door have a daughter named Bella,
the same name as our dog
and the neighbor across the street teaches GIS.
the college kids rock out on Thursday nights
since it seems they have no responsibilities on
Somewhere that must have changed since I
was in college.
I wandered home in the dark
holding my pie.
I locked the doors and ate my pie.
it was delicous.
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