No matter how late we came home on a winter night,
there were always enough lights to see with;
Lemay Ferry Road is always busy.
That was long before the
monster named fentanyl
snatched my cousin Mikey
like one of those kids on milk cartons
except we knew he'd never be returned
and everyone whispered about the big A
when they'd think we couldn't hear.
A loud pop rings outside
but it's no engine backfiring
and it's not the fourth of July.
Momma says not to worry
because we have a metal door
but a seven year old still checks all the windows at night.
We board ourselve in to make sure we get out,
so don't ask me why I'm afraid of you.