did you see him,
the stranger,
coming
crotch rocketing
down your tree lined street?
did you see the child
his sandy hair splayed
by his own journey
flying through the dusk
pedaling his bike pell-mell to eternity,
or the end of the block
where his father stood akimbo,
talking soccer, while mother
washed the windows of her SUV
did you recognize the whine
of accelerating RPMs bouncing
off the safe houses,
the cleansed castles
where time’s dust was chased away
by growing mutual funds
and manicured hands
before it had time gather
as dust ultimately must
did you see him
coming
to spoil your story
with a mangled pile
of flesh and Tommy Hilfiger
so far from the desert bombs
your labors paid to build
did you hear the sound
of your own breath when
you ran to see
or did the screams
of all the mothers
of all the stars
awaken you from a dream
did you sleep that night
without the sight of white death
in the fields of suburbia
far from where blood
was written to be spilled
by darker skin under blackened skies
forever invisible to your eyes?
written while in the clutches of writers block, whatever that means