Standing on the corner of Claytonia and Warner
was the bum in the three-piece suit
looking as miserable as could be, I couldn't help but shoot
and I did, without any regrets
But I'm not finished yet
As I turned the corner I saw them,
the hollow sisters who mourned him
I couldn't understand why
there were tears in their eyes
so I shot them too
I couldn't leave out their whining children, clinging to their skirts
with designer jeans, and designer shoes, and faces caked with dirt
Even though I had to reload, I knew they had to be shot
And so did the wobbly old couple, barely shuffling along
There were more people than usual out on Claytonia that day
From ventral to dorsall, I shot them all, anyone who came my way
With trembling fingers I shot and shot,
Feeling powerful I shot and shot,
I was in another realm,
I shot and shot and shot and shot
Until I ran out of film
Myra Jefferson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shooting-in-st-louis/
