Let the record show a bit of transcribed ink
on the receipt for coffee in the smudge
among shorthand scrawl of the typist.
What the thugs wanted was for the violence
to true itself into the body
of the attacked my friend.
You mean to say you thought the world was
essentially a placid set of plains?
Well, how wrong were we?
We were on fire.
Then, with what also?
No, with hindsight.
Such as to vanquish—
So, to disarm the insomniac?
To slow it carefully into the present
with perspicacity & the thump of blood
from your throat to the pads of your feet.