Ch. 8: Annus Mirabilis
Dewey spends Christmas at his daughter's,
his leg healing,
but it was no joke, and not shot as thought,
at least not directly, but a ricochet
glancing off the brick, entering his leg already flattened,
ripping into his femoral artery.
It was a mess, and a drive-by, not meant for him.
It is, after all, Chicago.
Jackson is back in Corpus, this thing with Rebecca
is proving wholesome for both of them, neither prone
to wholesomeness by nature.
So the year is ending for the brothers, nothing accomplished—
the bad guys are still bad, but there is money in the bank
and no one died, which seems, to them, all to the good.
Poetry by jim
Read 109 times
Written on 2016-12-29 at 18:57
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