Very well, my dear, she said through coloured glass,
Through teeth of blood and silver
As the doorway hurtled past;
I then stood on the front step, with the rain beating down,
Until he bared his thuggish fangs
And I drove from the town.
I had done no wrong, offended none, and yet
He bore a numbskull grudge
In rage and beery sweat;
Each escalating threat of unfinished business spoke,
Of coming round and knocking
Things grew way beyond a joke.
My aging failing heart began to age and fail anew,
The sickness quickly spread
With blood work left to do;
Though of innocence protested, all stupidity is deaf,
Only one track on his mind:
To batter me to death.