Shakingly, 

My thoughts of the beautiful, white Crescent Moon

Were lost on the ebony sky of late November.

Complacency fled like winter sleet melted,

The glint of the knife, on that coal black night,

The one in the hoodie, with the facial tattoo,

 Lunged forward screaming into thin, cold air:

“Put the fucking money in there!”

....

So what did he get when he terrified me?

Two barrels of a shotgun, fired in the blink of an eye.

Brain matter splattered over land and sky.

A cross-eyed giant king snake

Tossed his remains across the Styx into hell.

And that's all there is to tell.