I can’t stand it!
Covering my ears
with trembling hands.

Sirens, Wails, Whistles
pierced my ear drums.
Cars and trucks
rattled on the highways.
Streets and blocks
fenced off,
blocked off
with concrete giants
of tightened security.

The shots came closer.
My littlest finger,
a sister to me
up to then.
I removed one hand
and shook the tear-stained
drop of blood.
Soiled white shirt,
too late for school,
I,
the walking wounded
finally made it back to work.

They cleaned and bandaged it
while I waited for the cops.
Writing my life’s story,
they turned me in to jail.