Bill One Friday 2024.

an ex-CIA agent retired in the UK

After his bath

Bill dried himself,

Then dressed in clean

Clothes and waited

For dinner time.

He felt fresh now.

The young carer

Had provided

A clean blue towel

And let him bath

Himself unwatched.

He loathed Sundays,

They reminded 

Him of childhood,

His strict father

That unloving

Way that he had,

Those long lectures

On the right way,

Those middle class

Manners and thoughts.

His mother was

Loving but weak,

Unable to

Stand up to him.

Bill lit his second

French Cigarette

And inhaled.

He never attended

The funeral

Of his father.

Even if he  

Had wanted to

It would have been

Impossible,

What with the task

He was doing

Secretly for

The Agency,

Taking out an

Irritant that

Was stirring up

Things about the

JFK kill, 

Long ago now.

His secrets kept.

He knew black ops.

A different world

None here would know.

Soon be dinner

Sitting with those

Deadheads at his

Dining table

At the old Lodge

Nursing care home.

Time now to rest,

No longer roam.