Killing Machine in Mint Shape

By Lynn Ockersz

The hooded and helmeted gunmen on wheels,

Roared into the mid-day melee with ease…

Two dark spectral birds of prey,

Zooming in on flesh, red and fresh,

Their blazing automatics,

Bringing down their quarry in a flash,

Even as he cowered in numbing fright,

In his rickety tuk-tuk sputtering to a halt,

Leaving onlookers helpless and agape,

At a killing machine that’s in mint shape.