The blood
spilled on the hood
of the 69 Camaro.
Despite his strength
he was no hero.
He took the second bullet
straight in the gullet.
Felt the pain
but no shame
as he struggled on in vain.
Crouched behind a wall
desperate to crawl.
Away.
Away.
Away.
AWAY.
The blood did spray.
Not on this day
would he let himself fall.
With a one, two, three
jumped up on one knee.
Emptied the clip
down the midday strip.
Held his breath.
Felt the glare
of the sun’s hot flair.
As the gun fell out of his blood drenched hands.
thejrpc 