on the street  

Friday, November 21, 2008

On the Street

I can see him from the corner of my eye;
my next victim. He’s a smoker
and he pulls hard on a thin cigarette;
exhales and the purple plume unfurls
extending it’s tendrils across the street.
The night here is thankless.
His scrawny body leans against
a tree; the gnarled branches
hanging lifelessly down.
I’m stealthy in my approach;
showing my weapon to my victim;
though I sense his fear – “Salvation army”,
I say, holding my badge – “Come with me”.
I go to bed knowing I saved another life.

This sonnet was inspired by a clever story I found on redbubble.com. I liked the duplicity of the word 'victim'. To read the original story click here.

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