High School Shooting

it is Morning
I am late
you had to change
again

anger and frustration
causes an exchange
words
fire back and forth
a struggle 
now inane

inside our driving cocoon
silence ...
only interupted by the
electricity of sullen moods

upon arrival
you are quick
the stifled quiet accented
by the slaming of your door

at work
half-filled mug
in hand and
heart talking loud

I admit I’m tired
over-worked
and less than appreciated
life has become a rush …

a hurry
a busy
inflected with
forced smiles
along with complicated decisions
and often verbal wrestling
the world of me and you

the vibration of my cell
interrupts this morning muse
the LCD panel flashes
the unexpected word
School

racing from the office
rib cage echoing
thuds
the car drives itself
 there is no place left to park

the only sound remembered
is the slamming of my door

I am here to wait
with the many other wait - ers
too

the insignificance of early morning
has now
embraced my soul
only sounds of gunshot
reverberate

and i realize
this truth ...
if only i could once more
hear
the slamming of your door