— 1974 Elsinore St Concord MA one night, like most nights children asleep, medicine, milk inside me I lie in pain, in bed, or on my bed crouching, groaning, kneading my stomach as if pressure from outside might quell the agony inside, at some point I remember — meditate, chant — until the session’s past, until time shifts from pain time to plain time, when I sleep next morning a cop stands on my doorstep we didn’t want to bother you last night to scare you — the peeper had leaned my ladder against my bedroom window peered in while I suffered unaware of the cop who lived across the street who saw it, called it in, ran over & clocked him a known low-IQ perp, they booked him beat the crap out of him, he won’t do it again next evening, not yet dusk, I spy the peeper crouched in the bushes, lower branches heaving, I rush him, brandishing whatever comes to hand, scream foul curses — he runs, I don’t see him go only that he’s gone & I raging, the ladder safely stowed, the bedroom curtains pulled he never returns, or he’s watching me still, wishing only to share the pain