1 of 29

Poetry: Being a loser

by S.E. Ingraham

Welcome to the Jungle

They found him

behind a dumpster

near the Mustard Seed Church

Somebody had beaten the crap

out of him, maybe more

than one somebodies

His handsome face,

is unrecognizable,

save for a tell-tale tear tattoo

'neath his right eye

Blood has encrusted

around his nose and mouth,

and both eyes are swollen shut,

A cut at his hairline looks deep,

more like a gash really,

it runs back, gets lost

somewhere near the crown where

there's matting and an unnatural

flattening of his black

and burnished native hair,

Hair that is quickly

losing its lustre

as he lays there in the trash,

as if he too,

is garbage, a throw-away,

soon forgotten

Was this a result

of the famous Aboriginal

gang violence we keep

hearing about

Another Warrior

vengeance killing,

or was something else

at play here

The native kids usually

cut each other

but they are not much

into fist play

Don't seem to punch

the living daylights

out of anybody

plus, this poor guy

Had a special humiliation

accorded him

that seems like payback

of a different kind

Around his neck,

someone has fashioned

a crude yet wordy sign,

that reads,

'Remember Guns 'N Roses Loser? They

Disappeared too - maybe they'll come back

But you will not - You Loser'

Heavy emphasis

on the word loser

trying to make a point?

Just unimaginative?

Hard to say, I think,

as the coroner's office staff

loads the body

into the back of their van

Good chance this will be

another unclaimed soul,

another John Doe,

off the reserve, to be buried

In potter's field,

no-one looking for him;

no-one missing him 'til

long after the fact

My partner finishes

the paperwork as I pull

the cruiser back into traffic

This job can get to you

if you let it, I 'm thinking

Then crank the radio

just as "Sweet Child of Mine"

comes on. Ironic.


Helium, Inc.
200 Brickstone Square Andover, MA 01810 USA