[The fourteenth installment in the month-long poetry sequence that began on October 1st.]
"Rude Awakening"
Stu "Stumbles" Mumford
I woulda thought I'd been seized by the DT's
If I didn't have a half-empty bottle in my very grip.
There I was, alone, minding my own business,
Sitting in the alley back of the Paradise Theater,
When that freaky-looking beast came lumbering past.
It almost didn't notice me, but then stopped dead;
As our wet-eyed gazes locked, I told myself that this
Thing everyone was so alarmed about had to be harmless.
Next thing, I'm thrashing and fighting for breath.
Wait...this ain't how it happened, I no sooner think
Than I'm yanked out of the dream by the garrote
Of Sheriff Pfister's hands wrapped round my throat.
He's calling me a goddamn rummy, saying it's all my fault,
But what in the name of Jeezus did I ever do to him?
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