By A.B. Samien
Mom cried out,"But It's you I love!"
while dad punched holes in the walls,
like periods on his angry silent sentences,
then left,
to sleep at the office again.
I remember-
"don't tell your sisters,
but someone was shot up the street."
Dad bolts the door and hides the front page.
I was 9.
Now they leave the garage wide open,
even when they go out,
the doors unlocked,
because things are different in Pennsylvania.
They live in a circle
where everyone knows everyone's name
and everyone's car,
and everyone's dog,
only under the shade of a nuclear reactor,
"it's much better than coal!"
said the man on the radio.
But there are certain problems with both.
