6 Foot 3'......[LONG; Scary; Gross; Murder]
I'll tell you a crime story that you've never heard,
But first you'll have to promise to not spread the word.
It started many years ago on the Massachusetts coast.
Most of those who know of it are now themselves ghosts.
It is a murder story frightful and most ghastly.
If you mention it to the police they'll laugh, and YOU may be the victim, lastly.
After high school in the 60's I attended Boston College.
I went there for the social life, and to gain some more knowledge.
While there I joined a fraternity made up mostly of jocks.
Initiation week they made us attend classes with no shoes or sox.
I'm getting off the track a bit as does happen often.
I think too many drugs in the 60's caused my brain to soften.
A member of my fraternity was a B.C. basketball star;
He was scouted by the pros and it was felt he'd go far.
He was 6 foot 7 and his meals were supersized.
He was my closest friend and I enjoyed looking up at his eyes.
One night in the off season he went drinking at a bar.
He left the joint at 2 A.M. but he didn't get far.
He was found by a sanitation worker early the next morn.
His skull had been bashed in; his massive throat was well-torn.
It was a campus and Boston sensation, a sad one it was true.
I was crushed by his passing and from college I withdrew.
I had lots of money from my grandma; I did not need a job.
I moved to Miami and became a beach bum, not a slob.
Within three years two more murders were added to this story.
The descriptions of the bodies found were EXTREMELY gory.
One, a 6-4 white male prostitute, had been eviscerated.
The police photos of a black female socialite,6-3, were XXX-rated.
My parents lived in Santa Monica and insisted I move home.
I settled in their guest house but at times I still did roam.
I met and dated a wealthy,6-5, fashion model………
The largest piece of her flesh found would fit inside a large bottle.
I started, then to see a shrink; I worried I'd go crazy.
I'm telling you my story's true, though at times details are hazy.
I spent ten years in analysis, which cost a lot of money,
But I believe it helped restore my faith and my outlook was more-sunny.
Then one summer I did Rio Mardi Gras; it was my BEST vacation yet.
But back home I learned my doctor had been found in his red Corvette.
What was left of him, I should say. I hesitate to here linger.
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poem by Bri Edwards
Added by Poetry Lover
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