The Day He Lost His Name

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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.

Out of the Cave

 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.

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Published by abigfatcanofworms

We all walk in the dark. But if we hold hands, perhaps the dark won't be as scary.

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13 thoughts on “The Day He Lost His Name”

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