The Great Escape


The Great Escape

Call yourself a cop

I’ll call myself a robber

Corner me in an outhouse

Call in your backups

Talk to me through bullhorns

“Come out with your hands up

We know you’re in there

Watching flies strafe dust particles

In sunlight shafts

Savoring the odor and the old news

“Come out or we’ll come in after you. “

Tension builds. No answer.

Anti-climax hero cop makes a perfect photograph

An eyeball peeking through a knot hole.

I’ve escaped

Down through the hole

Into the real world

From Poems of the New Old West

Copyright©2002, Jack Purcell

One response to “The Great Escape

  1. I actually knew a guy who lived in a little shack just like the one pictured. I invited him to Thanksgiving dinner one year.

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