Crime Scene Man
Posted By Randy on April 8, 2012
In an article published here back on 3 October 2010, I mentioned a friend of mine who is a crime scene investigator for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He’s a crusty bugger, and has been as long as I’ve known him, but as far as I’m concerned that’s part of his charm.
For some reason, recent completely unconnected communication with his wife inspired this short poem.
Martin is a crime scene man,
He figures bad things out.
His job is sorting nasty shit,
And sifting truth from doubt.
He sees the things you can’t unsee,
He smells what won’t unsmell.
He’s crusty as so many are
Whose first name’s known in Hell.
And yet his necessary job
Pays bills and feeds his brood.
And I’d be last to call him on
His right to blackest mood.
You see, he’s just like you and me,
With problems of his own,
But Martin has some extra ones,
Straight from the Twilight Zone.
Thanks for the giggle Randy!! I love it.
Glad to hear it. How did Martin react?
He loved it too. He woke me up this morning to tell me about it. He thinks you are quite the poet!
With the material my life has given me to work with, how could I be anything else?
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