The dried and the rain

Looming atop a hill
Some gallows
They, somber
Me, a jester

The crowd as always
Cheering before the curtain had been risen
I took a drag, threw out a laugh
The pebble dwellers went ballistic

And then, the sky did was he does
Pissed on the crawlers little rain
And I exhaled
Habitually
the denizens took cover
The executioner spit in his palm
Drying the noose
Begged me for my last drag:
‘ we’ll do this thing another day ‘

I said: ‘of course, just let me know.’