By Keegan Flanagan
a store is robbed
at gunpoint.
one man stands locked
and loaded
on a clerk working for change.
Graveyard shift.
The robber stares at the clerk,
dead-eyed
hands shaking in the register,
Bullseye.
Pop!
the gunman stopped
at a smoke joint
with hands full of cash
and asked for a pack
of camels to go.
He left no one alive.
I wonder what it’s like
to be a bird on those nights
flying from the sound
of snapping branches and
bathing in pools of rain
ran through by a man in a rush
on the run from screaming cars.
I would love to fly.

Categories: Arts & Entertainment