Whilst sitting on a red park bench

smoke in hand, comfy, fed,

another, his revolver clenched

points his power towards my head.


"your money, sir. and make it fast"

I? not a twitch, not a glance.

His eyes now wide, confused it seemed

"hello old man? i said give me.."


"be on your way sir, i am quite tired"

his eyes now merely pupils, wired.

"how is it now, that i stand here,

and you, not shaken, free of fear?"


"fear, my son? what threatens me?

I'm quite content, my children three

play whilst i enjoy the sun, but you...

you hide...



...behind a gun."