On the afternoons' Edge

still on the Hill

Another day with power outages but 'those kind',
the oldman smiled thinking of the election tradition
the power behind the Power...lunch and dinner out
and often in the dark of the special Few, he was mad
and shot the prick in the heart thrusting body and
head into the Weather Channel, blood on the floor,
a woman watching at the screen door..
she wanted no more.

It was definetly one of those days, the corpse was not
coagulating, a trail crossing the crooked floor
puddling beneath the blogists' barefeet.

"Fucking bloodsucking mosquitos," growled the madone
watching the situation progress from the same chair
a watcher of life, a recorder to death.

"Such wonderful tales that could be told," laughed
the oldman cleaning his mystery weapon.

In the setting of The Eternal Sun.