It could have happened


The lane is empty siesta meanders forever among olive trees
and tempting almond flowers, but far I see an ominous shadow
coming towards me knife in hand.
Is he psychopath out to **** someone and not being caught or
a Farmer wanting a sample a twig with many flowers to take home
to his wife who is preparing the Sunday roast?

I stand stock still think of judo – something to do with feet-
no point outrunning him bring his undercurrent of hatred to a boil
then killing me with the pleasure of the hunt.
I pick up a stone he looks tense when passing me I pretend to look
at the sky can't have him plunging his knife into me.
He is running now, don't know why was it the stone in my hand?