The Promiscuous Pair
A fifth of Jack Daniels and a half box of Winchester shot.
His firery, drunk temper, blood boiling red hot.
Only two headlights gleam, down that pitch black country road.
His intentions aren't good, he's prepared to give them whats owed.
Now his bottle's near gone and his wheel gun's full.
While his Model T Ford roars up the drive, like a prodded bull.
The full moon over head, drapes white light on the door.
As the broken shell of a man, grips that old .44.
It's been one too many times, she stomped on his heart.
He's waited too long for Karma, now he's playing it's part.
A swift kick with his steel toe and the door swings wide.
Yearning for revenge, punishment, for all that she's lied.
There in the bed, lying wide eyed and bare.
Are the two midnight lovers, the promiscuous pair.
No words were said, just two crack shots to the head.
As hollow point lead, leaves the cheating duo stone cold dead.
With sinful, lifeless eyes, he makes the sign of the cross.
The final farewell from a warped mind, overburdened with loss.
A third bang rings out in this plight, leaving a bewildering sight.
And the three lay dead, on this dark Tennesse night.
Not all passionate love stories end with a smile.
Nor do all crimes have sound resolution, or end up on trial.
Time is too surreal, to turn out how you would figure.
In the blink of an eye, life ends, with the pull of a trigger.
Share This Poem