Free Verse

When it is my time to go

I'd like

To be shot by a blind sniper

The odds are not in my favour

But

It would be some consolation

For my widow

To be able to say I was

Literally

One in a million

When it is my time to go

I'd like

To be shot by a blind sniper

To be the exception

That greases the wheels of probability

And makes the sniper smile

When he hears about it

Later

On the news

To be shot by a blind sniper

To be needed

To square the circle

And to never know

***

Pretty moving stuff. Things are always moving if you align them properly.

I'm wearing my new shoes. They seem a bit tight.

My last ones were falling apart. The right shoe had an open toe. It was the kind of shoe you might find on the caricature of a mid-twentieth century hobo. My right foot kept getting wet and cold, so I took tentative steps and then serious steps to avoid having to take them.

They seem a bit tight. But they're preferable. On the way into work yesterday, I had to keep picking dead leaves out of the toe-end. My shoe was trying to swallow them. It was like Hungry Hungry Hippos, but less frantic and more mulchy.

It's better to have sealed toes. I'm terribly ashamed of them.