39 years later you look out at me
framed time holds that moment
you were sitting in my car’s backseat
long hair haloed by the sun
full of tomorrows
caught midwink
your eyes are oddly unbalanced
one much larger than the other
you panached that pince nez
that rides your aquiline nose
it was never silly when you wore it
it didn’t matter that you had 20/20 vision
you liked its appearance
the costume value of a minimalist mask
you knew the kind of looks it would provoke
your unlined face never did get wrinkled
you still have all your hair
in the moments that I keep you alive
a few images and memories
you remain caught in our youth
I carry you forward
into the now of 39 years later
your hair reduced to a fringe
your face a roadmap of the intensity of your passions
still ready with a wink and a smile
bearing memories of never weres
and premonitions of yet to be
but that vision fades
I’m left with a black and white photo
and a hole in my heart
punched through with the same force
that bullets punched through yours
in the middle of the night
gunned down
another guiltless bystander
another crime statistic
one more unfulfilled promise
that diminishes this reality
into less than it should have been
less than it should have been
David Trudel © 2013
Photo by Art McLeod
createdavidt 
Random Killings
Desperate people inflamed by hate
Ruled by frustrated passion
Resenting all they see
So they grab a gun or maybe three
Take aim at others, randomly
Inflicting pain, inflicting death
Spreading chain reactions
Of deepest misery and vengefulness
And the commentators will wring their hands
And go on to say it’s not the guns
And it sure ain’t us
The hateful bile we offer up is just for fun
So when we say that its time to aim
We don’t really mean it
It’s just a game
But clearly things are going wrong
Hot lead flying in schoolyards
And all to make a specious point
About free speech and hate and fear
Underlined in blood
And drenched in tears
David Trudel © 2012
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Filed under Poetry
Tagged as blank verse, free verse, gun violence, guns, hate, killing, poetry, random killings, sadness, social commentary, violence