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Owen Kucharski found himself inside
of a rather awkward situation,
all because of a women that he saw
every few days for adult ‘recreation.’

Her name was Laura, and he had met her
when they’d both drank too much at a bar,
she was in her mid-thirties, very pretty,
and had said,”My place isn’t that far!”

It had been a very impressive night,
and three more times to her house did he go,
then one night a friend whispered to him
that his friends-with-benefits was a widow.

Owen learned Laura’s husband had been a cop,
killed in the line-of-duty just last year,
and the he was her way of distracting
herself from the grief and the tears.

He couldn’t blame her for wanting a break,
a mind could not always be doom and gloom,
but he was annoyed when her family sneered
that he 'knew the way to her bedroom.'

And it wasn’t like it was a serious thing,
they agreed he would not spend the night,
it was just relief for a woman in pain,
a meaningless but needed spot of light.

Besides, he doubted she’d go for him,
he owned a pawn ship on the red-light streets,
totally legit, he always followed the law,
but was still looked down on by society.

The wife of a hero never would deign
to be serious with a man like himself,
so he took what he got, convinced that she
was just using him until she got well.

They had their fun seven more evenings,
and the rumors had started to fly,
it came to a head one warm Friday night
when Laura asked if he could swing by.

He walked brooding, down towards her house,
a stew of problems distracting his mind,
as he drew near he heard loud chanting
and looked up, shocked at what he did find.

Two-dozen protestors stood outside her house,
screaming boatloads of obscenities,
supporting the man who shot her husband,
who was in prison for his sentencing.

They declared that her husband had framed
their ‘hero’ because of his dark skin,
they offered no proof, nor seemed to care,
that the criminal had started the thing!

That he had opened fire on the cops
during a drug-deal that had gone wrong,
didn’t event enter into their minds
as they sang out their loud protest songs...

CONTINUES IN PART II
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