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I was in some village in Georgia

The buildings were of white brick with black trim

The luscious homes of the neighborhood so enviable

People were casually milling about

Momentarily enjoying their lives

Talking, laughing, smiling

Swinging shopping bags with materialistic glee

But then the people were frantically scattering

There was a great change about, a sudden twist of reality

Like the American classic — a school shooting

And there was a guy with a baseball bat

He was swinging at people like a madman

I saw a few fall to the ground

Like string-cut marionettes

Quickly, haphazardly

I was watching all this from a window

Of a busy breakfast place in the heart

I was having jalapeno French toast

The waitress thought I was insane

I told her that I was

But not as insane as that guy outside crushing people with a baseball bat

Restaurant patrons clambered toward the windows and watched with horror

Cell phones whipped out and filming

I heard the obligatory, “Oh, my god!”

And I thought to myself, Yes, God. What about this one?

The manager of the breakfast place rushed to lock the doors

I asked for some more maple syrup

The waitress angrily waved her hand at me as she watched the unfolding of another tragedy for the books

“Not now,” she said, pointing out the window. “Don’t you see there’s a guy out there killing people with a baseball bat?”

“Are you surprised?” I asked her. I stood up and yelled out to all the people gathered there. “Are any of you really surprised? It’s just another day!”