by Jnana Hodson

night after night, the ding-ding
air pump hose off the hook
rang from the corner gas station

that summer, I didn’t register how
T was dropping acid on the sly
and drinking almost daily

he must have been as strung out as I was
unassisted, chemically . at least he was
getting laid and dancing
all the while, looking cool


a block away, a year later
we were all sitting on the porch
when Glenn cried out that he’d seen a man
with a girl and the man carried a shotgun
so we all ran to that railing but saw nothing

I believed Glenn, but Maggie and Paula didn’t

a few evenings later, Paula and I were in a meadow,
reading, as she listened intently to the hum of insects
and the wind and then a shotgun blast . shaken,
suddenly, she asked about the girl’s fate


it finally hit me
there are wars within wars

even in this trash called a city

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Copyright 2015