ex-pats

When she was rude, she had no memory.
No bound ties by blood or through fellowship,
stolen journal locked with her behind a heavy wooden door,
with only a fuzzy transmission of muffled manipulations going on.
She left her friends outside waiting, and wading through
used things, clothes, books, lanterns, and dust.
They started to leave one by one,
back to their parts of any town, usa,
in spite of the consequences of her wrath...

They won't forget the thrown eggs, the force of the fire hose,
or the snowballs with rocks in the center.