Where You Live Poem by Cretan Maineiac

'I know where you live, ' he sd. as I trained the wood-cased
barrel of my
Winchester (never previously fired nor even loaded) on his

Heart, 'NO! ' she pled & bled from the icy
sidewalk. The authorities had just
cut him loose, two months after they'd seen fit to intervene as

prescribed by new regulations aimed @ Domestic
prevention. 'I can
come back here when you're not home, ' he sd., his car pouring burnt

fuel exhaust, blackening the snowbank astride the
cul-de-sac, the
sun flashing on it all like an old blue-dot bulb. 'No no

NO! ' his co-perp went on, pleas spewing from
her like life's blood as the
mother of my children cried from our doorway 'let the police handle it, let

the
police...'

'NO! ' sd the better half, 'they just let him
out...he'll have to go
BACK! I have children! Please! ! ! '

Domestic prevention & Where You Live
both points one deems to ponder
when zeroing in on Poverty's ills
mulling over which Life to squander.