A gun on the run

He was there staring at me out of nothingness.

I approached with trembling heart.

Did I know him? Did he know me?

That gun was pointing at me, wasn't it?

Or at you. Or at us.

I saw sadness in his face. Lonely chap.

Does the weapon make him feel loved? Powerful?

Motionless he was on a wall in Buedo,

"Buenos Aires, mi querida Buenos Aires..."

Gardel stuffed in a newly starched shirt

Time past, perhaps there on that street corner.

Guns, guns, blood and roses.

Justifications. Evasions. Smoke clouds.

The sewing ladies in Chicago

Gunned. The lesson of the boss.

May First, worker's day.

Everywhere except in Chicago.