drenched in city dawn
a tarnished dime
stares heads up
empty eyed
stuck on a crimson clot
late night bar fight
spilled into the street
fists then bullets
screeching tires
crumpled body in the shape
of a thrown off blanket
covering a puddle of blood
slowly seeping
into still hot summer macadam
a black tar gravel pot hole patch
roughly outlined this morning
in scratched white chalk
wrapped in a ribbon of CRIME SCENE tape
dime to the side
fallen short
gutter refuse
squandered change
beneath the pitted metal
curb side meter
relentlessly ticked down
beyond the alloted time of dreams.
***
BY NEIL BROSNAN