There was a blaring
Back up beyond the hill we’d
Just come down. Someone
Pursued us. A bull horn
Voice strengthened and
Threatened. Unable
To think, I stumbled
Away as well as I could.
I had been writing and
Raised my hand with a pen
There clinging. My other
Held a walking stick
And at my feet Jessica bared
Her few remaining teeth.
My pen was knocked away
And my poor hearing
Turned their sounds into
Raucous screeching. They
Shook their heads at
My conspicuous ineptness
In this now-righteous domain.
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