Billy's Last Day Poem by Clyde King

Billy, Rob and me held up
last night a liquor store,
but as we reached the door
the clerk shot Billy dead.
At first we thought he was hurt.
My God how he bled.
When he didn't get up
we had to leave him
bleeding in the goddamn dirt!
So help me God I'm going
to kill that punk clerk!
I blame myself for killing Billy.
He was my little brother, only sixteen.
Now Rob and me have to
live with this memory.
How am I gonna do that?
Drink and drug myself to death,
I guess.