A half-dressed man once pointed his gun
At me from an upper floor window
In the street: “Hey, kid, want some fun!”
He laughed. For a moment I didn’t know
Who I was — not until he disappeared.
Nothing had happened, something feared,
Because the child’s world I knew
Had never been so wrenched askew.
Even so, I ran home, my lungs bursting,
Shouting with joy — no, then cursing,
Crying, tears stinging, feeling shame
For which I’ve never found a name.
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