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.


Lifting the bricks to reveal
Earthy soil speckled with:
Pebbles, glass, earthworms—
A subterranean world unleashed.

Smoky air drifting in the breeze,
The scent of dead wood and leaves
Clinging to every fabric.
A crackling fire warms the heart.

From the clutter and junk
A vision appears vaguely,
The garden lying in the wake
Of rubble and disuse.

The Alternate Side

I stand at an intersection and
         my perception distorts for half a second.
Whether it’s the sight of the storefronts,
or the familiar rush of traffic,
the smell of sizzling concrete,
or the voices of passersby,
         I know I’ve been here before.
And I like to think
         about my doppelganger,
         no doubt being a rockstar
         in a parallel world running
         alongside me.