Fading daylight
wicks from the sky,
night tar thick and sticky
between trailers where moonlight
ought to be.
A big man walks with a small dog,
footsteps crunching on the gravel road.
Shadows leap from Christmas lights
and some thing happens down in the dark
some big dog tears from his owner’s leash
or a woman feels a fist
or a man’s betrayed.
Some thing unexpected
Something brutal and bloody.
Shouts, accusations and curses ring out.
And a lone voice cries
“How could you?”
The dog whimpers
and the man entreats
“How could you do that?”

Panic and rush,
slapping doors
as the neighbors descend from their decks to the road.
Car doors slam, engines roar,
headlight angels fly across the porchscreens.
Deep into the night they intone through the darkness,
the pissh of a beer can,
glow of a cigarette,
murmur of voices,
all wondering
How?
How could you?