They waited for him to cross the playground
To get him in the sand where the traction for running
was not so good.
Away from street traffic and prying eyes.
And when they pounced, there was no mercy.
Five of them, masked.
Raining down blows.
Having never met the target before.
And when he fell to the ground
that got them excited.
Balling up only increased the frenzy.
Spitting up blood so they could film it.
Rifling through his pockets for his wallet.
One slicing off the end of his finger
for a souvenir.
Blacking in and out sometime later,
he remembered two young girls checking his pockets,
but the haul was gone.
Laughing as they walked off
as one would at a comedy