The Day I Threw My Last Rock

I wore red.

I was apt to fight;

throwing rocks was my freak,

in a face off,

with kids who knew mean.

My rock flew

from sling fist,

at those kids who, like me, wore red.

Rather than correctly

crushing tailbone

my missile crushed some woman’s

red tail light.

Red shatter!

Maaaaad

Fury from the random, unintended victim…

Red scatter!

As it turns out, she saw red,

that lady so

Maaaaad

anyone actively interrogated, about

information on the bandit

who wore red.

Such as, those damn rascal

boys.

Up on the tracks

I viewed all and possibly, escaped

red life.