Bill and No End Game 2023

An ex-CIA agent retired and his musings.

The end game,

the purpose

of it all,

was lacking,

and Bill knew

it was just

an outward

kind of game,

characters

on a stage 

playing up

to the crowds,

just one big

P.R. stunt.

He stood there

at the small

window in

his small room

at the Lodge,

smoking his

cigarette, 

gazing down

at people

passing by,

going to

or from work,

or shopping,

or maybe

going home

from the gym.

That female

he snuffed out

in Berlin

was spying

for the Reds,

or so the

Agency

informed him.

Make it look

like a plain

suicide,

Bill, they said

and he had.

He sighed soft,

releasing

grey/white smoke.

Breakfast time

soon downstairs

in the lounge 

with the three

stooges that

shared table

and gossip.

The ex-cop

pissed him off

with tall tales

of his deeds

as a plod; 

the other

two were dead

brains who sat

and sniggled

or sat dumb

taking in

the plod's trash.

Bill inhaled

one last time

and flicked ash.