Not one of the fifteen cops on this street
suggests I go inside
when they walk by me
with their shotguns and dogs.

I’m not the man they’re looking for
but they are in my backyard
with shotguns and dogs
looking for a man with a gun.

I’m incidental to the search.
They ask me if I’ve seen anyone
and how long I’ve been out here
in the rain under the hood of my car.

Have I seen anyone? They are in
my backyard with shotguns and dogs
and a news crew’s interviewing one of them
down at the corner while I watch.

They haven’t seen anyone either,
not catching any of us on tape
as they watch the cops look for
the man they’re looking for

under porches and in our backyards.
We’re incidental to the search
for a man who shot a woman through the neck
in her car one block from here.

We’re just cannon fodder.  We’re not the people
anyone is looking for or speaking to
except to ask if we’ve seen anyone,
anyone at all, in connection to the incident

that none of them will confirm or deny has happened
no matter how often we ask them to tell us
what happened.  What happened?  On the Web they say
a woman was shot, police are seeking the assailant,

her identity is not being released,
she’s in critical condition, the suspect’s description
just says he’s a black male of unknown age
with a gun in his waistband,

but no one in our backyards
will tell us that as they rush past us
talking only to themselves
with their shotguns and dogs and cameras and radios,

as I work on my car in the rain,
as if nothing that could possibly interest me
or anyone living here
has happened today.