Russ

The most innocent of things Gave him ideas— The Good Will painting, gifted by his grandfather, Of the succulent lady Slurping up mussels Sitting upon her bustle At the sea food bar— Russell Referencing him, one townsperson would say You don’t walk your cat like a dog And another, But you can’t put up a privacy hedge—thieves love that! While one of the church girls maintained He only needed to fix his teeth. Then one Saturday The preacher’s wife offered she’d heard His blue Buick had been parked beside Adult Books Out on the highway . . . He caused quite a fuss— Russ Police couldn’t find anything on him But everyone knew In the fustiness of brusque— Russ Not ***** enough for politically correct Nor expressly pedophile to warrant an arrest— Just the Town Pervert no one could trust— Russ The villagers came to believe That when a sly autumn turns to pumpkin orange A full moon’s blush And leaves rust— Russ In the deepening dusk A lone man heads for trouble— Russ