The Assassination Of The Grassy Knoll Assassin Poem by Shaun Cronick

1963, November 22,12.30 p.m.
Dallas, Texas.
Dealey Plaza.

Bullseye!
That one blew his brains out.
Camelot in smithereens.
A hit well done.
Let's get the hell out of here...

Two months later...

His spotter's dead.
Someone else took him out.
Just me and the main man.
The shooter.
The shooter of shooters.
As he gasps for life,
Blood gushing out of him.
Choking,
Gurgling.
Both his hands to his throat,
His slashed throat.
Trying to stem the torrent.
Thinking he might live.
Pathetic really.
He knows he's dying.
As I just casually watch.
Then as a professional courtesy.
I stab him in his heart.
Instant death this time.
His eyes close.
One final time.
I must admit I admired him.
And his past legendary work.
Especially two months ago.
For I'm a shooter too.
And they hired me to remove him,
Up close and personal,
In his crappy motel room.
A professional courtesy.
One shooter to another.
They paid me well.
As I leave this motel,
Like a murderer in the night.
Which I am.
It's just business.
Simply business.

Two months later...

I'm not stupid,
They'll come after me too.
No loose ends,
In case he talked.
So I hide away.
In broad daylight,
Down here in Mexico.
In this hotel complex,
With great views and hotel pool,
For the past two weeks.
Then I spotted her,
A new arrival,
Four days ago.
A real looker.
Sunning herself around the pool,
Trying to ignore me,
The only other American here.
And here it comes,
She approaches me to rub some,
Suntan lotion on her back.
I oblige,
She starts talking,
We're there for hours.
She asks me about my life and job,
I lie of course,
A pack of lies.
I ask about her life,
While holding her gaze,
Was she ever married,
No she replies,
Never met the right man.
Always looking into her eyes
What she did for a living,
Where's she from,
General chit-chat.
Both of us,
Like for like.
All the time looking her over.
She says she's tired
And needs to take a nap.
But how about if we meet at the pool at midnight.
With nobody around.
For a skinny dip
I agree.
Midnight arrives and her too.
In a completely deserted pool complex,
Nobody around for it's off season.
Just the two of us
Me at one end of the long pool,
She at the other.
I'm in my shorts
She in her bikini.
Adjusting the back of it.
She shouts out,
Dive in!
And we'll meet in the middle!
I oblige.
And as we surface together,
I grip her right arm tightly,
Like an ice clamp.
She gasps and I take her knife.
Which is now in mine.
She gasps again and asks how did I know.
I tell her about my marriage query.
She still doesn't get it.
So I tell her about the tan line,
On her wedding ring finger.
Now she gets it.
As I plunge her knife into her heart.
Her eyes register the shock.
As I kiss her.
A final kiss of death.
God she's beautiful.
What a waste.
As clouds of her blood drift in the water.
I whisper to her,
It's just business,
Simply business.
I let fall from my hands,
Back into the crimson pool.
I grab my go bag with money and false passports.
No taxi's.
I decide to double time it to the airport.
Back to the States.
Get some of that new Hollywood plastic surgery.
A new face.
A new identity
I'll make my way to Europe.
Take on small jobs.
No long-range shooter hits.
Don't want to draw light on myself.
Nothing too flashy.
Not with Uncle Sam on my back.
It'll pay so-so.
Not big money.
But it's a living.
My go plan in my head,
Whilst leaving the hotel back way.
I scamper up an embankment,
A grassy knoll.
And think to myself,
The irony.