ghetto fireworks

gunshots rang out
just loud enough
to ruin the first
boring night
in weeks,

followed by
the sound of
slamming doors
and cluttered
foot steps,

as everyone
in the neighbor-
hood
crowded
their stoops
and
     lined the sidewalks
in nightgowns and robes.

some one always knows the victim
some one always knows the shooter
some one always knows everything

it gives them
something to live for
huddled out there in the street
waiting
     for news crews that won't show up
and ambulances scared to park.

I lit a cigarette
and killed the lights,
so no one would
knock on my door
to tell me,

gunshots rang out.