Thursday, June 16, 2011


As I held my handgun to his head,
he cried out:
"But she wanted the drugs!"
These were the drugs that killed her.
My baby daughter
I lovingly changed her diapers
watched her smile and gurgle
gave her baths
read her stories
i put her on my chest at night
and she was safe with me in her slumber
i taught her how to ride her bike
and how to hit a baseball
i admired her at ballet lessons
and was amazed by her beauty
she was my joy, my life, my dreams
but now she was dead
the change in her came in high school
i followed her in my pickup truck
i saw her with her connection
dozens of times
I knew this man was her dealer
and the dealer to many other suburban girls
now i was in the ghetto.
no place for little girls
then before i knew it, i pulled the trigger
i watched as his brains hit the side of a wall
i looked up at all the other faces
they knew i was ready
no one made a move
i shakily got back in my truck
i drove home feeling like a dead man
i expected the police to pick me up
i poured a stiff drink and waited
no one ever came for me
i guess this was what they call, "street justice"
no matter
it didn't make me feel any better.

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