All Off for Tuscaloosa

They say I died in Tuscaloosa

En route to Miami Florida

Bus pulled in for scheduled stop

Dinner at a Five and Dime countertop

Meat loaf, mashed,

       green beans, brown gravy

             ...some white bread to sop

A fine Last Meal it was. 
But then...

Men at a booth

they start yellin

One with Panama

He rose quick

Gun in hand 

he shot the other

Then the waitress

The owner

And me. 

That’s it.

The fry cook took cover

Behind his window slot

Came out throwing

Kitchen paraphernalia 

Panama’s head nailed by a big stew pot

His hand, cleaver-severed 

Just dangled and dropped

Boning knife deep in his thigh

He staggered, jaw slack

The damage now done

Floundered like a fish

flapping on his back

Cook kicked him hard

Broke some bones

then square in the face

Broke the guy's shades

Shattered the man's teeth

And dreams of his own

in a life, too real

Turns out Cook 

was the one deemed

'Illegal'.

And here I knew

nothing of this

Until I finally read

my own obit.