Grey smoke,
carabinieros* behind corners and shields.
Traffic – youths in scarfs with missiles:
police vans and a local bank
pelted by rocks and iron poles.
Tear gas, invisible,
singes the mind,
nostrils and eyes.
Tears burn,
dozens coughing.
They weep, some in laughter.
Another canister shot.
Protesters launch more stones, light flames,
police vehicles besieged, mid-intersection.