Read a poem by another poet written
on the same day:

the second time this month and
so close we thought we got hit
so we turned out the lights
and tiptoed around the room
looking outside of the castle around us.

no shouts.
no running.
no squealing cars.

i have a need for tar paper as well.

walk the mean distance over
here and help me listen for the
police.

gunshots, this evening, past midnight.
we cut the lights but
refuse to panic anymore.