The Peacock

A man in a suit, neat Oxfords, crisp shirt,
Saunters down the street, a giant flirt.
Checks his watch, a glittering metallic eyesore,
He grins with arrogance oozing from every pore.

He shakes his wrist again to flaunt that watch,
The reflection blinds a woman, whose purse meets his crotch.
He screams, and she then screams—
Karma delivers beyond my wildest dreams.

A Study in People

You see, but you do not observe.
Okay, chill out, Sherlock.
Take a look at the world today,
A mass produced commodity.

Within the sea of bright patterns,
Gaudy jewelry, trendy haircuts,
Who can tell the truth worth
Of a person at single glance?

Tiny details at every turn,
And sometimes—most times—
The effort worthless.
Individualism, a facade.

Mere observation answers not,
Every inquiry.
The solution: conversation.
But I’m too tired for that!

A Tale of Grifters

Once a Man with a sneaky thought,
Pounced on a passerby in the night.
Shouts cut the air as they fought,
Until the alley floods with light.

A piercing voice shouts, “Stop, you cur!”
Both participants freeze in shock.
Behold the pink petticoat and Scottish burr,
The beauty of a Woman wielding a rock.

“Truly?” cried the would-be robber,
Cackling and thinking himself blessed.
He strikes down his victim with a clobber,
Before turning attention to his Scottish guest.

They each regard the other with hidden glee;
The Man darts forward with raised fists,
The Woman dodges and maneuvers a knee,
Knocking the Man down in the most surprising of twists.

The Woman brushes off her skirt with a grin.
Walks to the fallen victim, who stands brightly,
Pocketing the Man’s wallet, she laughs, “‘Tis a true win!”
The pair saunters off, a vision most sightly.