The Usual Story

I slammed my head into the tall man’s nose,
Then kneed him in the groin. The other one
Had quickly grabbed my shoulder, but I spun
And broke his middle finger. He then chose
To use his other fist; that’s how it goes.
Ducking below it neatly, I said, “Son,
You’re way too slow.” I found his holstered gun
And pulled the trigger, hitting several toes.

I am a peaceful man, a gentle soul
Whose love of sweetness, light, and poetry
Should shield him from hurt and disharmony,
But trouble finds me, and it takes its toll,
Leaving our lives unwholesome, and unwhole,
Demanding our response, implacably.