Der Murderer slunk
down black alleyways
away from grisly scenes,
and towards still other grisly scenes
that was his scene, his bag, his thing
his whistling lips
traced eerie notes
upon the night,
grown two shades dark
- then two shades light,
as he passed past,
through air grown thick
with sick and fright
The City
pulled itself inside its brownstone bones
to hide, to hide,
it clutched its million bodies tight,
and groaned -
"Der Murderer's outside!"
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