“The news of a shooting”
Another goon has raised his sight
and stung repeatedly into the night.
So soon after that last shot tinging
off the walls of another town stingged
us. A hint about culture, sign about songs,
hoisting our snooty attitudes about wrong.
We, oohing and ahhing, and how could he?
Yet never outlawing the vehicle, the thing
That makes such horror possible. No.
The argument is thin, the day slow.
We can think of nothing to say
to this ghost who will not go away.