I once had
a deadly matt black
Colt 45 automatic
lent me by
an evil uncle.

I cleaned it,
coddled it
and prayed my
life would never
depend on it,
for I am
a woeful shot
with a handgun.

But when it
happened, my
aim was true,
luck guided
my hand.

I said a
little prayer
to the god
of war and

tried not
to look at
the dead man
20 feet away.

Good luck
and bad luck,

so close
together.

  ~mce