Posted in Poem

Perilous Questions

Was it 1 after midnight or 2:43? Were they 6 or 23? 

Was it his wife or a domestic help? Was he a courier who tried to yelp?

Is it a villa or a mansion? Is there a satellite dish or a television?

Is that a fictitious city or a real one? Is there a military training academy to train how it’s done?

Did they eat turkey wraps and cold shrimp? Did they watch one of the choppers crash and limp?

Did they get their coffee and soda to keep awake all night? Did they know if what they were doing was wrong or right?

Did he use marijuana to get high? Did he pray seven times to the sky?

Did he have cash stitched to his shirt? Did he think he could get away unhurt?

Was there a choice not to take him down? Was there a choice to hug him over his frown?

Was it revenge or was it hatred? Was there a need to bring closure to this ugly bloodshed?


Besides fantasizing about being a Peter Gibbons at least for a couple of days at my work, I think I have a long way to go to realize some of the other fantasies. But like any ambitious man out there, I will get there! Note: All views expressed in this blog are mine alone and have got nothing to do with my company Cogent IBS, Inc., its employees or any of its affiliates.

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