The Icy Roads of St. Paul

The roads were icy in St. Paul,
Winter having come from fall.
I sat at home, ready to jump,
My throat clogged by a lump.
I could hardly bring myself to speak,
Around me wind made windows creak.
I snuck out when Mom slept,
Running so fast, I almost lept
Down to Gretchen's, 6 blocks away;
I promised that I'd free her today.
In the tree, I sat like a creep,
Not even my heart making a peep.
Lutterman left, out of sight,
As I slid down, shaking with fright.
On the porch, the door, it screeched,
From my body, confidence impeached.
I hurried over to the chest,
Fearing of my own arrest.
Through the food and boxes heavy,
I wasn't prepared, I wasn't ready,
For Little Jacob's face to stare,
His mouth open, gasping for air.
But no air came to the boy,
As his life had been destroyed.
I held him tight and turned to see
Lutterman looming over me.
In his hand he held a knife,
As I stood, fearing my life.
I blasted through the storm door fast;
This day may come to be my last.
Flying over ice and snow,
He's right behind me, that I know.
I prayed for Uncle Emil to appear,
But knew he'd been dead for years and years.
Shaken from thoughts, I felt a grasp,
Lutterman touched me, and I ran with a gasp
Faster toward the street with fright,
And suddenly Jacob wasn't held so tight.
He slipped away, across the ice,
Toward the man with tons of vice.
I jumped to a clanking streetcar,
Watching Lutterman from afar.
He almost had me: I almost died.
Thinking of the knife, I nearly cried.
I failed Jacob. I failed Gretchen.
I rode home, feeling wretched.
In my mind, the words they flew,
"Cal, you bit off more than you can chew."