I am not surprised that many of us

survived the way that Shakeamaker

dealt with us,

I am astonished

that we did so without looking the maniac

in the eye and resisting all temptation

to punch him in the stomach

with our tiny eight year old hands

and screaming with our lungs

fit to burst, our lungs still blaring

as if mimicking the sirens

that disclosed the approach of the bombs

that rained down and the aftermath

in which we played in as children;