Escape Plan (Draft 5?)

Staccato shootings
like firecrackers, and
flashes in the night
made murder a dance.

Daring cacophony, we did
syncopation between crackles.

Booms were worrisome, but
like the caws of crows,
those nagging feelings faded
into a background noise.

I had planned our escape:
a matter of days, but
I feel time running out.

I did say wait until
daydreams come true
when flights of birds
marry the day to the night

said
wait for my arms
to embrace your charms, and
soon I’ll return.

I had
told her to hide, and
I had a plan. Time.

It can’t possibly be that
I left her in our neighborhood
thinking there’d be more time.

Keep the daydreams
and hide at night
I did say. I remember.

I’m sick. I hear the sirens and
and see the flashing death.
I have a bad feeling.
Don’t tell me.
I don’t want to see this.

She lies on our sweet path, and
they put tape around her, and
the bullet casings are noted.

Stripes in the wind, the yellow tapes
block the blue sky, stifle gasps, and
numbered cards are
like sorrow posters.

There are news cameras everywhere,
reporters are shouting, and

I can’t approach the scene, because
there are complications, and

there’s no way to tell the world
that I loved her.

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