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Dave Percell

Dave Percell was many men,
Many of them were meaningless.
Five faces we will talk of here,
Some of kindness, some of fear.

The first I will attest to
Rises with the morning dew:
With ruffled hair and smiling fun,
Dave Percell says, “Morning son!”

He tarries late and leaves for work
Fighting traffic in New York...
This face curses, absent mirth.
Just in time, he reaches the yard,
Steel beams rising, like windows barred.
Blue-collar friends Dave Percell has,
They leer at woman as they pass.

Saturday finds Percell’s son gone.
At a friend’s ‘till morrow’s dawn.
Dave's at home with the boy’s mom.
Beers are out, along with wine,
They strike a rhythm in no time.

Gentle he starts, as a rule,
But soon, his movements are cruel.
He gets angry and chokes,
Savoring the screams the action evokes.
Like a serpent Dave does strike,
Laughing at her screams of fright.

On Sunday, the sun does not rise
Behind a sea of clouds lies the bright prize.
The two souls awaken early,
His hair straight and hers so curly.
Dave Percell?s wife has a bruised face.
She puts on make-up, like a race.
Dave smiles, ignorant her pain.
They crawl to the car, through the rain.

At church early on that day,
They heard their good pastor say,
“You should never hate, rather pray.”
At that, Dave?s wife turned her head
And to God she silently said,
“LORD, take not Dave, but me instead.”

So now you know, the story’s been told
One forever new, yet ages old.
You’ve heard of Dave Percell and his life,
You’ve learned about his lovely wife,
You’ve listened to their marital strife.

“What did happen,” you may rightly wonder,
Well, just listen to the heavens’ broiling thunder,
You’ll sense the scrutiny Dave Percell’s under
You’ll know his fate, on Judgment Day... asunder.

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