Blood, and it's mine

Busy night.

Long night.

Tired.

Robbery.

Domestic.

Juveniles.

Drunk driver.

Break time.

Coffee.

Sounds good.

Window,

Down.

Night air,

Cool,

Damp.

Traffic light.

Winking,

Red.

Right turn.

Skinny dog,

In alley,

Limping.

Wino,

In doorway.

Smile,

No teeth.

Car.

Two teens,

Nervous glance.

Speed limit,

Exactly.

Glance,

In mirror.

Tail lights.

Brake lights.

Signal light.

Left turn.

Disappear,

Around corner.

Storm drain,

Steamy,

Wispy tendrils.

Melting,

Into black sky.

Radio,

Crackle.

Then …

“Fight-in-progress.”

“Tip-Top Bar.”

“Weapons involved.”

“Knives.”

“10-4,

Enroute.”

Blue lights,

Siren.

Gravel,

Crunches.

Siren,

Stops.

“Hurry, Officer!”

Crowd,

Circles.

Men,

Two.

Metal,

Reflection,

Flashes.

Step.

Grab.

Wrist turn-out.

Take-down.

Knife,

In hand.

Suspect,

On floor,

Handcuffed.

Blood,

Everywhere …

Mine.

Hospital.

Stitches.

Gun hand,

Again.

Should’ve been a writer.

Safer.

Much safer.