I remember the night,

when we had no place to go.

Being woken up by

my weeping mother and you,

my little brother-not so little now.

There had been nights like this

for years,

before the sun came out.

I would take you, hide you,

and make bears dance for you,

or teach you magic tricks.

He would scream,

She would hide.

He would throw knives,

She would hide.

He would shoot guns,

She would hide.

But that night-

He screamed,

He threw knives,

He shot guns.

She left.

We left.

You took me,

you hid me.

We all got in the car and went

from parking lot

to parking lot,

looking for a place

to sleep

before school,

before work,

before the sun came out.