Year of writing 119. 29/30

4/29/12

29/30

Oakland 1

I breathe slowly through clenched teeth
bullets have no place here, I think.
I ask with shallow voice, scream into
my elbow when no one can hear.
I walk the shore of a dirty lake,
exotic birds, local shame.
I watch the fog from this side of the bay,
wonder why its treasure is hidden.
I hold my children tight today,
tell them all to dream of acorns and sun.
I leave tomorrow with clenched teeth,
a bullet between; a memento from you.