Least Common Denominator*

You don’t know me
Do you?
His face was a mask of incredulity.
Hell man
Get a newspaper.

Saying nothing
I returned his glassy gaze
Forcing myself to show
Absolute disinterest.
I wore a badge.
He was just another inmate
In an orange jump suit.

But his eyes have haunted me
For thirty years.
They were cold
Dull
Bloodless.

I asked another inmate
About the identity
Of the mystery man

Him?
Now it was somebody else’s turn
For incredulity.
He’s just the biggest mob hit man
In the last fifty years is all.
Works for the Chicago boss.

I’ve wondered about those
Whose last face they saw
Was his.
I’ve wondered whether he smiled
When he pulled the trigger.

It’s been three decades
Since he looked into my soul.

This was
Before the Gurney.
I hope somebody equally frozen
Bent to stare into his eyes
Just before they sent half a million volts
Across his worthless chest.

That’s the problem
In working among killers.
It reduces you to their
Least common denominator.


*I'm afraid this account is true. All these years later and I still see his shark-like eyes of death.