In the office his generous laughter, round and round and round it went infectious as violence. I liked him as much as anybody who saw his door that day the blue and white police tape. And the loss of his name. Tap tap tap the guard and him down a corridor. Did he ever picture fitting himself onto one of those narrow prison cots? Tap tap tap. Online everybody is anonymous. He thought he was meeting a teenage daughter of somebody slouching against suburban concrete waiting with his backpack of inappropriate dreams. This day the net is sprung, complete with those uniforms standing crisp in the sun. BANG Doors slam shut. Hundreds. BANG Thousands. BANG Office. Cell. And all those hearts. crack, BANG In the office we went back to our computers. Tap tap tap. A silence… round and round and round it went.
The Day He Lost His Name
Published
Out of the Cave 
Back pack of inappropriate dreams. A powerful euphemism. This poem is shocking in a good way
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Thank you.
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“his generous laughter,
round and round and round it went
infectious as violence.”
I love those lines especially “infectious as violence”. Really powerful piece
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Thank you so much!
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Reblogged this on Out of the Cave and commented:
Further to John Malone’s post “True Colours: the Story behind No Sympathy…”
The guy I knew didn’t commit murder. But sometimes I wonder what’s worse.
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A very good write…..
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thank you!
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