Todgrin Tooled Up
Todgrin tooled up.
Had the names of the perps,
Their whereabouts,
Who they were and why
They shot his brother.
He stared at his reflection
In the mirror, took in
The hard eyes, the steely features.
He rehearsed his routine,
How he was going to get
The perps, get them alone,
See the shit scaredness
In their eyes, take his time,
Stretch out the anxiety
In them, see them squirm.
He recalled his brother’s
Last words, mumbled through
Blood and pain, saw the bullet holes,
The mess of body. He looked
At the mirror one last time,
Grinned his grin, sickly, dangerous,
One his brother said could kill
A hawk in mid flight. He waited
Outside the first perps’s place;
Saw him go in, bided his time,
Smoked a French cigarette.
The perp was sitting at a table
When Todgrin pushed a gun
Into the back of his head.
He informed the perp who he was
And why he was there. The perp
Sweated shit, mouthed innocence,
Said it was some other, wrong guy.
Todgrin pulled the trigger; splattered
The table with flesh, bone, and blood.
He took his time cleaning his gun,
Wiped and put away and looked out
The window at a bright sun blessed day.
He flexed his fingers; shook his head.
Three more to go; three more perps;
To bang bang bang dead.
poem by Terry Collett
Added by Poetry Lover
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