When I lived here in 1968,
we drove old Volkswagens and ate low-cost.
We roomed with dogs and fleas and smoked a lot.
Some nights we heard explosive noises, late
and loud. We learned the sound of bad exhaust
would never rattle windows. Some forgot
how bullets boom, and think the claps we hear
are weapons aimed and ammunition tossed,
yet I can tell from memory they’re not –
they’re fireworks, but Nextdoor neighbors fear
gunshot.