Having a "Knock-Out" Christmas

my first visit
to the big city
alone,
shopping for loved ones
who wait at home,
walking down the avenue
three teenagers in baggy pants
 seem to follow
me from the metro station,
across two streets toward
the park, whispering, giggling
to themselves they come near,
when they approach
the big one swings,
knocking me to the ground,
never really saw it coming,
but I did hear the sound
of his pals, yelling "hit him
again, hit him again,"
the big boy slammed
his fist into my face,
pulled a blade and demanded
that I give him my wallet
or my life,
so I reached beneath
my jacket and pulled the .44
squeezed the trigger gently
and watched the big boy die,
the surprise on his face
soon covered with flowing crimson,
his friends turned out not to be so dedicated
to his cause as he had thought,
they ran almost as fast
as the ammo expelled
from the barrel of my gun,
but .44's are hard to outrun,
so they each lay wounded
in their own blood
at the curb of Freedom
and Justice, just down
the street from where I bought
gifts of jewelry and candy for my wife, scarfs
and sweaters for my daughters and more ammo
for my gun,
before going home
for the holidays.