Convenience store

barrel

I was certain that what passed
For courage, was but a sudden lapse
Of judgement, the steel cylinder
Had clicked with that dreadful

Metalic CLICK of the instant
Death comes round and quietly
Steals the soul.
He moved though, with speed,

Cat-like speed, the swift
Motion mostly a blur,
Downward, then sharply upward
So that the chrome barrel

Barely kept up, loud pow, pow
The smoke belching, no it was
Talcum struck behind him, baby
Powder, oddly faint, showered

Checked floor; he had rolled,
Now on the boy fully, He, wide-eyed,
Clutching his throat as though
To vomit, no more pows, or clicks

Crimson, sudden and violent, grasping
With useless dark hand,
And my cat would not seize,
A field mouse more deftly.

A loud clank when the heavy barrel,
Too big for the slender boy, I saw
Now, hit the floor, no more air
No more sound, but a gurgle,

I was sure this dream would end,
But the boy thrashing would not
Allow, now awful thrashing, death
Came loudly, and we stood there

With milk and whiskey and diapers,
Wondering what could cause a boy
To ask death for an early night,
Again he kicked, but the wound

Sucked in air for only one more
Moment and the silence lay down,
And the young woman fell faint,
With a thud; old woman just nodded.

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About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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