April 20th, 1991

That was a do-you- remember-where- you-were-when- Elvis-died day. Bold marchers stretched thin as the casing trail to cafeteria tables. No one can hide from silver-barreled peekaboo and pipe bombs in the gym that may or may not explode like these two t-shirt teens did. You and I watched reality TV turned reality, and my brother, with tear-stained pop gun, said, “Don’t worry, mom. I’ll protect us.” And we ache to think the gun men are boys who fed toys with bullets they gathered daily instead of courage like preschool fingers on false hope rifles tipped in red.