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Dedication Poem
To Martin Scorsese

For showing me that film can be art
and not being afraid to explore the truth
For making mobsters seems cool
and teaching me about Taxi Drivers and Raging Bulls
For captivating me with your world of
action, violence and realism
And for igniting my love of cinema
Through your brilliant masterpieces

Dedication Poem

To my cousin

For always making me laugh
No matter the situation
For never treating me like a child
Even though you’re the older one
For sharing my love of movies
And watching them with me
For being a part of our inside jokes
Even though no one else finds them funny
For making me try new things
Even when I didn’t want to

Flash Fiction
The Man closed his eyes and listened closely for any sign of human life.
“He has to be in here,” he whispered to himself, “there’s only one way out; he’s trapped.”
The warehouse was cold and dark, unused for years. Nearby, the Man heard soft footsteps trying to be as subtle as possible. The Man pulled out his gun and crept to his left. He made a sharp turn behind an old, dusty piece of machinery and standing behind it was a trembling, terrified man.
“It wasn’t me! I swear on my life it wasn’t me, you’ve got the wrong guy!” The trembling man screamed.
The Man chuckled slightly as he pointed his gun to the trembling man’s head, “No? Then please, explain to me why you made seven calls to Lieutenant Brown three days before Castellano’s drug deal gets raided by the police! Huh? Answer me that Smith!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Smith muttered, “I never made those calls.”
“Phone records don’t lie, Smith!” yelled the Man, “You didn’t think Castellano would send me here without proof did you? What did the police offer you, immunity? After all Castellano’s done for you and you go and stab him in the back!”
“You don’t get it do you?” asked Smith, “look, I know you hold Castellano up on a pedestal, but the man is completely ruthless and selfish. Do you really think you matter at all to him? The second Castellano has the opportunity to throw you under the bus, he’ll take it. You don’t become the most feared mobster in New York by playing nice. It was only a matter of time before Castellano turned on me for his own personal gain. I just beat him to the punch and it wouldn’t kill you to do the same.”
The Man paused for a moment, “So maybe you’ve got a point. But in this business all you have is your loyalty and I wouldn’t trade that for anything!”
“Please,” Smith begged, “I’ll do anything. You want money? I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I’ll disappear forever; no one will have to know about this!”
The Man didn’t want to do this to Smith. He believed him when he said he wouldn’t tell anyone. The Man took a deep breath; he knew what he had to do. He covered his ear with one hand as the other pulled the trigger.

Rhythm Poem

Splish splash
Water falling
Whooshing swooshing
Flipping flapping
Gliding down
Sliding ‘round
Wish wash
Slish slosh
Down below
Waters flow

Silent water lies
A mirror for the midnight moon
Reflecting beauty