Spring Water Poem by John M. FitzGerald

Joe Smith works at the Spring Water Plant, in Tacoma.
All his life, everyone called him Joe Smith.
Never just Joe.
It makes him feel generic.
Joe Smith talks to God.
Or is it the devil, he isn’t quite sure.
He just knows he is chosen to kill people.
Anonymous people.

Joe Smith works in shipping and distribution,
But understands the whole operation.
Why he isn’t running the place by now is beyond him.
A man of his obvious intelligence.
How could they not have noticed?
He is special, he hears voices.
One day, he’ll show us all -
Joe Smith will be a household name.

Of all those sheep among him,
A few might have to be sacrificed.
So he studies poisons on the Internet.
Spring Water is sold in several States;
An undetectable dropp here or there, and none the wiser.
They would never make the connection.
But that’s a problem.
To make any difference, he has to be caught.

Otherwise, Joe Smith will always be generic.
Scene One – Los Angeles, a car wreck,
Emergency vehicles already responded.
Driver dead, car stolen.
A bystander says “he drove straight at the wall
Across four lanes, not even wearing a safety belt.”
Policeman I: “Any alcohol in that bottle? ”
Policeman II, sniffing: “No, just water.”