a pheasant's flight falls short
a firework feathers
a lone report, no reply

cold and wrapped up and released
a recurring black-eye in the east
you deny

now we're strangers in the midst
of a plot with all-too-familiar twists
why should I?

dogs are barking kids are swearing fire hydrant's pouring out the side
delivery trucks with engines running doubled parked
while traffic can't decide
I wish I was a photographer with a camera that would never tell a lie

two crescents in a sling
two halves that make a ring
to divide

now we trade these sorry blows
two fighters who should have retired years ago
but can't say goodbye