Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

No. 2

over the partition
he kept staring and craning
shifty-eyed and beady
to the point
i felt his glare must be sunlight
by a world’s fair sized magnifying glass
with the intent of melting my face off

well and often breaking
“you can’t check this relic out
so the research must be done here”

so finally he works up the gumption
saunters over
clears his throat and says
i’ve seen you here in the library before
over in antiquities
why do you always tie up your hair with a pencil
you should wear it down

i can feel him
he’s got creep emanating from him
on the inside he’s ted bundy quaking

i don’t look up
all hard
keeping my eyes on the line i was reading

because i may take a notion
to write a poem
or stab someone in their jugular vein