Picture a generic room in a suburban complex
Picture a lone office chair in the middle
Picture a man tied to the chair in this lightless room so plain
Picture four strangers, armed and angry
Picture the contraband scattered on the floor
Picture the pick up, four hours prior
Picture the dark tinted car, its creepy approach, the absence of plates
Picture the car window rolling down just so
Picture a man trying to walk away, then picture them cornering him
Picture the struggle of his thin body, then picture his defeat
Picture a single bullet in the barrel of a gun
Picture the cowardly confrontation, four men on one bound, gagged and blindfolded
Picture the drugs they were forcing on him
Picture his whole self shaking no, no longer wanting
Picture the fear of the drug lord whose face this man has seen
Picture the gun in bony hands, outstretched arms, ready stance
Picture fingers squeezing the trigger, the recoil after
Picture his head thrown sideways, picture blood spurting from the hole there
Picture his thud on the cold tile floor, picture the final tremors
Picture the frenzied clean up, picture the experienced escape
Picture a policeman who comes with this news
Picture an old lady crumple, picture the trembling of all of her
Picture crime scene photographs in her frail hands
Picture her clutching her chest
Picture her eyes go dark, picture her motionless silence
Now picture a wall of photographs
Then picture the section for the dead
Now picture a woman cradling her grandson’s photograph
Then picture it softly hanging there, among the dead
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