My dream frames a time
when my mind settled
in to be what I had not quite
the discipline to become.

This month of tears
is eroding old monuments.
In a thousand ways.
I am in *******
to another bandit day.

How can I not forgive them?
An X chromosome
and a shorted dendrite;
Both of them churning their way
through a darkness thick as buttermilk.

But there is one thing
I can’t help wondering,
where were you,
when the bridge began to burn?