10/23
Sonnets From Other Lives:  Benny

The old man sits contorted in his chair
like a letter from a long lost alphabet.
Behind his rheumy-eyed unfocused stare
his mind is screaming for a cigarette.
But everything that moves or speaks was disconnected
three years ago.  (He took a bullet to the head)
Before that he was a made man & respected
for his skills in making other people dead.
Like that orderly who left him on the shitter?
He would have worked his kneecaps with a power drill.
These days all he does is think his bitter
thoughts about the different ways he'd kill
these bastards.
                       There he sits dreaming his dreams.
It's dinner soon.   He's hoping for ice cream.