Out on Patrol
By Brandon Palzkill
Striding across the moonlit lawn,
heavy, blackened rifle gripped in
my hands.
Gasping, sweating, pounding heartbeat,
hurrying toward the commotion
inside.
Got the call, someone in trouble,
raced down the street with red and blue’s
flashing
Arrived on scene with my partner,
ready for whatever’s lying
in store
Get to the front door; hands shaking,
chaotic violence pounding through
the walls
Moment of truth is approaching;
bust through the door; locked, loaded and
ready…
Charging inside, “hold up your hands”,
guns trained on blank faces looking
at me.
House full of drunks watching movies,
volume cranked to shake the rafters…
dammit.
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