Nocturnal (an acrostic poem)

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Nighttime was when he was awake and alive

Observing his domain as he prowled the streets

Citizens were happily in their beds now

They were dreaming dreams of a light-filled world

Under which people like him were just fragments of lore

Real-world boogeymen who cleaned up society’s messes

Now that suited him just fine

As he enjoyed the peace and quiet of owning the blacktop

Lifting another trashcan, he deposited the contents in the back of the truck before moving on

Graft (an acrostic poem)

Giving his best had always been Amir’s motto, but others just wanted a hand out

Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out an extra twenty and handed it over

And just like magic, his truck would be the next one unloaded.

Funny how feeding greed made Amir sick to his stomach

Too bad he had to keep a two liter of Pepto-Bismol close at hand