Crab
I wandered sideways as a crab
past windows ripe for smash and grab,
when in my back I felt a stab
of Stanley knife intrusion.
Sharp between the shoulder blades,
to widen eyes behind the shades,
the pennies dropped in coin arcades
and spun through my confusion.
I held my breath and stooped a bit,
as blood flowed from the gaping slit,
a victim of a gangland hit
I crumpled to the ground.
My life unfurled before my eyes,
a violent stream of truth and lies,
a screaming, silent improvise
that howled without a sound.
He stood above me as I bled
with rueful smile and shaking head,
“It’s nothing personal,” he said
and winked a lazy eye.
My mind slid sideways like a crab,
as I lay on the paving slab,
my killer hailed a passing cab
and left me there to die.
A cold sensation filled my veins,
a creeping darkness ate my brains,
a nearby scent of sewer drains
like perfume made in hell.
I lived a life to my accord
of evil deeds that ill afford,
for if you must live by the sword
there’s little more to tell...
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2006
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