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Confession

Another one of his victims
black eyed and running mascara.
My heart sinks when I see under
the running tears the familiar face
she with her fire kissed hair and dark eyes.
I greet her with familiarity
her sight lost in the distance ignores me.
I understand and proceed
filling the name and birthday without questioning her.
After all, friends of the family know such things.

My elbow caresses the butt of my gun and it itches to be fired
gun blazing the bastard out of his hiding hole
as she details vividly the way the bastard
beat, and forced himself into her like a rabid dog.
Justice waits for no man, I think as I type every detail.

Images flow into my head as I imagine warming up the bastard
two to three of us should be enough to hold him down
and make little detours along the way.
Her voice begins to cackle and I know is the time
to stop the questions and take action.
Pedal to the metal, as the suburban houses zoom by
and the cars part away, like a modern Moses I smile
Heart pounding as my guys fall behind
Sirens crying their agonic melody
and tires scratching as we descend into his street.
Onlookers pour out of their siestas
and the drunken bastard comes out like a cornered rat
his hands up in the air; shirtless and unbelted pants.
Guns drawn and he tries to make a run as soon as he sees my blue eyes.
Too easy, guns recoil into the air and the bastard is down
not dead entrapped by his own pants.

We descend on him like lions
 I nod and knees and elbows penetrate his fatness,
misplaced gun butts break a few of his ribs.
Broken of nose he spits into my face
and I smile. 
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