After he drives the ice pick through the victim’s forehead,
Boredom begins to drag its squeaky chalk
Across the blackboard of his tenuous attention.
Always the same: the questioning crescendo,
Sforzando counterclaims, cadenzas of confession,
The cries and dry heaves, then the sudden stillness—
He knows the score by heart, yet after all these . . .
. . . . . . .
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