The first cool gray evening
since summer’s longest sun.
Distant gunshots ring out the day
or in the night.
I’ve given up believing
those small explosions are leftover fireworks.
I wonder what disagreement
sparked this disturbance.
Maybe his girlfriend unbraided her hair
in front of the wrong man.
Foolish of me to assume a man
wields the popping gun.
But women prefer knives.
Or poison. Right?
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
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