About the shooting just now

Guns ring afar
like popping corn;
“It’s not fireworks,”
states my mother.

Two parties,
or three or more;
their noise settles
in a matter of minutes.

A metal door shuts
as the storekeeper closes
and climbs up the stairs
up to her home.

The TV is back on,
“We’ll watch the news tomorrow;”
thirty minutes pass
and shots click again
above the programme’s voices.