A Killing

It was a hole, size of a dime. Had penetrated his left eye a Southern California crime they use their guns there, never shy. The brainstem caught the leaden thing but, at a loss to fight intrusions it sat there, numb, and felt a sting death came on strong, 'twas no illusion. They dropped him into fresh cement and poured another ton on top, the cops would never prove intent though they would try, this was a cop. And it is true they did walk free, no body meant no crime was done, but one detective used a key no, not revenge or his own gun. He took the crims then for a ride in a small Cessna to the sky. When they were up he opened wide the door and said this is good bye. Pulled out his Colt, three fifty seven and herded them, those chicken shits, it was a quarter to eleven and they were now out of their wits. But he was firm and they then tumbled out into nothingness and smog, the pilot turned and stretched and mumbled, then made an entry in the log. The end result was that they had eliminated evil doers and no one acted real sad they missed them only in the sewers.