happiness is a warm... gun?

last night i heard a man get shot 100 feet away from my bedroom window. this was a poem I wrote after watching a man get mugged across the street from my apartment building a few months ago.

A, traffic jam
A, man mugged
outside my window
while we watched
and proclaimed

THIS never happens here.

I wanted palms & passport stamps.

This place was for us and now
I am left here
grassless;

planting spider plants in old coke bottles
locking, both, locks.

i miss feeling humbled.

[sigh]

some would call this, a nerd moment:

Me: did you see my story in my blog
Them: which one?
Me: the moose story
Them: is that its title?
Me: no i just refer to it as 'the moose.'
Them: oh, i thought you changed the title
Me: hahahaha well no, because i'm not Elizabeth Bishop.



hahahahahhahaa. oh. man. it's true.