I sat in my car at the intersection next
to the school mesmerized by the way
the fire was raging from the windows.
Every day I think about what I’ve lost.
John has paint he says we might be able
to use to clean up the burnt-over areas
a bit, but more things can go wrong than
right. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of crying.
There’s a bullet hole in my child’s car seat.
Howie Good, 2018
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