when constable johnson showed up and
brought me in on charges of attempted murder.
i didn’t shoot any bullet through sara chickering’s keyhole.
the man who works at the jew store,
ira hirsh,
if he got shot,
i didn’t do it. i was supposed to poison the sutters’ well.
i couldn’t even do that.
i should be scared, but i don’t care what happens anymore.
i just couldn’t run another day.
figured facing the trouble i left behind
couldn’t be worse than dodging
the klan preacher,
johnny reeves
following two steps behind me
shadow-eyed,
smelling of river slime,
showing up every place i stopped.