The Monday Night Sidestreet Showdown
by Beowulf Mayfield
Last night
I saw a crimewave
He was walking up the street, twenty paces ahead of me
Seventeen years old
And ugly for his age.
Three times he turned
And looked back down the street at me.
I was on my way home
Carrying a supermarket bag
With a carton of semi-skimmed milk, a jar of pasta sauce
And two rolls of toilet paper.
I was smoking a cigarette
And had an urgent need for the crapper.
There wasn't much time.
I looked back at the crimewave
With the face of someone who doesn't need to carry a gun.
If he put one foot out of line
I was ready to shower him with
Hot, stinking shit.
He didn't fancy his chances
And ran home to the safety of his mother.
When I arrived home,
I put the milk in the fridge, the pasta sauce in the cupboard
And took the toilet paper upstairs to the bathroom.
As I relieved my bowels
I made a mental note
To form a gang
For social gatherings,
Weekend sporting activities
And routine vigilante duties.
© Beowulf Mayfield 1999
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