A Criminal on the Street
you run
into a criminal
on the street
he's counting
the days
on his gloved fingers
you ask him
for some outlaw
cool
he smiles
like a wax pig
trips on the curb
you help him up
he is soft like
a breast of chicken
his grey hair
dead grass
a cat walks by
in its taffeta freedom
shoots him
through the heart
with a whisker
