Poem: Upon Seeing Our Stuff Gone

My heart skipped, something was missing.
Not just one thing, but all the important things.
Wait. That car. Those men.
They didn't? They did!

Air gone. Lungs uncooperative.
Breathing mechanisms have failed me.
They took...no, they didn't.
Yes. Yes, they fucking did.

They got it all. All those years of work.
My novel. My poems. My anguish.
My knees hurt. I can't stand.
How did they? Does it matter?

Someone, look at the cameras.
Tell me your cameras work.
I don't understand. How did they...
Call the police. Call them quickly.

They took our ID, our money.
My cigar box of memories.
My lost loved ones - stolen.
Your notes, your momentos - gone.