Hobbies

We each took a boot and dragged
the body out of sight.

I frowned at the gigantic red smear
before turning to follow him down the alley.

You’re so good at this,
I said, taking three steps
for every stride of his.

What can I say…
he replied,

Killing for me is like
poetry for you.
Not something I think about
or define myself by
or bring up in conversation.
It’s just a… how you say?
Oh -
a hobby.