The Week Of The Three-Day Sucker Poem by Rob Knetsch

one night a long time ago, although it feels like yesterday
we could feel it coming, creeping up on us behind the corner
it was dry, it was raining, i don't remember, maybe it was windy
but it became obvious that this was the beginning, the start of
the week of the three-day sucker

i guess he couldn't help it, he was what he was, sniffing about
with a face like an owl, the thickest glasses i had ever seen
on a human's face, surrounded by spots or freckles or something
slouching his way forward, like an almost dead battery, all energy
gone outside without anybody knowing

when he was found he was still alive, of course, and not hurt much
some teeth and glass missing, and i could see it all happening
probably another story of narrow streets, a sleazy bar, filthy toilet
stinking rooms and holes, not a pretty picture to paint was the last
crossing my mind while i was hit by the sucker punch

'The week of the three-day sucker' © 2013 Rob Knetsch