One Day I found


Soft leather boots, fur lined,
A full pair just lying there
But when I picked them up
One’s extra weight says Occupied
And upending it did no good,
All that dripped out was some
Treacly blood so am there
Using me bayonet to winkle
Out whatever’s left when
This staff car pulls up and it’s,
“You there my man, what’s
That you’ve got?”
I hold them up
And he follows through with,
“How much?” so I name a price
Which is less than they’re worth
But still more than enough
To which he agrees with a nod
And a smirk as he hands me
The cash then drives off with them
Tossed on his back seat: it’s moments
Like that could turn vinegar sweet. 





Kevin Patrick McCann

This entry was posted on in homepage and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.