I relish your leathery confessions
like an exploding fruity burst.
How natural and stringy is the texture
of malfeasance which rolls across my dry lips?
Let my hand smooth such academic demise with visible care.
As the mercury cools on Meadows Law,
your husky testimony finally becomes mute.
The miscarried face of justice releases nondescript babes
professionally etched in your souless exit.
Their bloody clots, snagged for years on false statistics cry out:
You hurt us!
Such aural rage reminds me of your imminent, sallow end.
One of seventy six million I'd say because anything less is murder.
I stand and straighten my uniform, climaxing at your terminal groan.
Seconds later, I check my own pulse;
knowing excitement seldom comes packaged this way.
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