or my son
who says he wants a gun
who says he loves me
or the way the girl is drunk
when she falls
from a third story window
is nineteen and dead
and what she leaves behind is a
two year-old daughter that
no one wants
what the rain does is fall like
it'll never end
friday
then saturday then
sunday and still no sign from
anyone's god
no apologies to the
indians and nothing to
build from their bones but
strip malls and mini-marts
nothing to give my children
but small piles of
bitter words
their pale
perfect hands always
hoping to grab what
i hold just out of reach
_by_Victor_Schwartzman.jpg)
