Let the record show a bit of transcribed ink

on the receipt for coffee in the smudge

among shorthand scrawl of the typist.

What the thugs wanted was for the violence

to true itself into the body

of the attacked my friend.

You mean to say you thought the world was

essentially a placid set of plains?

Well, how wrong were we?

We were on fire.

With rage?

Partly, yes.

Then, with what also?

with vengeance?

No, with hindsight.

Such as to vanquish—

So, to disarm the insomniac?

To slow it carefully into the present

with perspicacity & the thump of blood

from your throat to the pads of your feet.