Afraid of the rifle fire, he had
Crouched all day in the dirt,
A dull fellow at the best of times.
Ricocheting bullets bolted to the air
Surfing the wind, screaming
Abuse like ill-disciplined relatives
Arriving for an impromptu visit.
One shattered his head-there it was,
There were its remnants-
Greasy insubstantial grey matter that
Contained his soul.
An end to drinks in the pub
The love of his wife
The smiles of his children
Holidays in Benidorm with the In-Laws
Paella by the swimming pool.
One bullet, not even new, put an end to a contented life.
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