I walked toward the open door
my guard was up for the access denied
tool belt in hand
Wrenches screwdrivers hammers
And an eight inch kitchen knife
so oblivious to the fact his family would get paid
for his job
He whistled the song of inpending doom
I crept slowly
no one home
When The heavy man could not be lifted to the mirror
I showed him his dead reflection in my blade
I finished the leaky sink
And the sky was dark colored and sleepy
so I flipped through channels on the sofa and slipped the check
they left him in my coat
I soon grew tired of this game
and called the detective myself
"hey, shirlock"
"want to play clue?"

06/01/2009

Posted on 06/01/2009
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Wilson