Tossing Hand Grenades and Bullets
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Off and on they signaled, always in rapid fire
casting munitions across my window blind
A garish platoon of aggressors engaged in war
all tossing hand grenades at my haggard mind
Their bullets were blinking in Morse code
flashing in rhythm with droning dissonant jazz
From their stronghold across the asphalt road
they nightly attacked in a tawdry scheme
No clouds as allies to enshroud the moonlight
In cryptic shadows I avoided the street lamp
and the eyes of their sentry. Her stilettos tapping
in syncopation, I slipped by their sentinel vamp
Stealthily I moved, muscles tensed and strained,
I peered through the umbras to launch my attack
An alleyway spotted, and there I ordained
the weapon to silence their nightly escapade
Behind their front line, my hand unlatched the box
I flipped all the switches and pulled out the fuse
The only sounds I heard were patrons moaning
No Morse code signals or stilettos walking in ruse
On my window blinds there were no flashing lights
No tacky neon sign, offering home brewed beer on tap
Victory over the aggressors. I mumbled their last rites
I slept peacefully through the night with a fuse in my lap
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017
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