the 1st choice was closed so we settled on the 2nd

the fingerprint
was left bright
in blood,
the blood
already
hardening,
beginning
to fade,
on the broken
glass window
of the rear
door.

the thief
left himself,
herself, itself,
beautiful,
bright and
fading, on
the broken glass
window,
the rear door
leading to
the small porch,
the small
yard.

it seems
impossible,
to be the one
with the cancer.

impossible,
to be the one
broken in to.

it’s always
supposed to be
someone
else.

he thought it was
a kidney stone,
painful
yes, but
ultimately benign,
that brought the
bright blood to
his urine.
that brought the
incandescent pain
to his abdomen.

he thought he would
suffer shortly,
and it would
pass.

she didn’t expect
to
awaken
to
the dinner bell
of breaking glass.
this,
a time for
breakfast.

she didn’t expect
to
startle
from
her sleep
and startle
the burglar
from her
home,
at the same time.

he had known
people
with cancer,
she had known
people
who had had their
feeling of sanctity
broken.

neither
expected it
to happen.

these things
happen
to other
people.

all of us,
animal.
human
animal.
people.
all of us,
an other
to someone
else.

there really isn’t
so much space
between us,
is there.