not all strays are dogs

 


sometimes the stray
bullet finds you

a job is lost

a love leaves

a friend dies

it will find you
on the most
perfect days

days when the
sun is shining,
the harps are
playing and
the angels
singing

the stray bullet
will arrive in the
mailbox

or in the smile
on the lips of
a false friend

it might be in
the flashing red
lights pulling
you over on a
deserted road
on some desolate
night

the stray bullet
is a ghost never
heard or seen

but it will
come

as we walk
mindlessly
into the
ambush