Squeaky Clean
Yesterday
At the corner
Of Marsh and Broad
Crossing on the red light
I passed
Charles Manson
Holding an umbrella
And a tall
Starbucks latte
He stared me down
As we met
In the middle
Eyes as piercing
As the ones in the
Photos
Taken from
Helter Skelter
Beard as wild
Hair as
Disarrayed
Every bit as disheveled
I met his gaze
But only for a moment
The man is dangerous
After all
Then continued on
Wondering how
He’d secured
Release
From terminal life
In Corcoran
Wondering
What had brought him
Here
Of all places
Here
Wondering if there’re
Starbuck’s in prisons
Wondering, wondering, wondering…
Then almost collided
With a red-headed woman
Who darted past me
To catch up with him
As I turned back around
I heard her speak
As she took his hand
And remembered
Squeaky just got out
On parole
October 16, 2009 at 7:17 am
DAMN!!!!!!! This is a very tight, carefully crafted poem.
October 16, 2009 at 7:22 am
cool praise, lady.