I walked into the station to report a theft

Can I describe the item stolen? Why, yes:

Days of medium length. Light winds off the ocean.

Breezes outdoors in the sun with friends.


Identifying features?

Faith in free expression and common sense.

My grandson’s first kick.

The sound of music while walking down the street.

A future for my family: work, play, hugs, joy.


The worst part of the robbery

Was when I shouted “Stop! Thief!”

And the cops threw a blanket on my head

And thumped me until I stopped shouting.


Hearts attacked, hearts broken. Hours and days tick on.

There’s no “pause” button as we all stop, fatten, ache,  Spend dazed hours waiting on electronic deposits

That never come. Of course, there’s no one on the phones.


No one can deduce the curve.

Nothing’s flat except our affect.

No one knows what’s being measured,

Changing from centimeters to ounces

While moving the endpoint of the tape.

And somehow the Spring they stole

Was taken voluntarily at gunpoint

Because we were more afraid of dying

Than of not living. Death just grins and waits

Somewhere past the end of stolen Spring.


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