We expelled him from the craft.
Two men had him by the shoulders and
a third pointed a pistol at his head.
They punched his gut, shoved him to the metal floor
and scattered to shut the seal behind them.
The prisoner stood at the air-tight door as I
ordered for his death.

He was a swindler,
a punk prowler, scrounging for my riches.
We struck it big the last stop.
We latched onto a private ship, a liner.
On board, some spoiled hotshots.
The thief busted my locks and
I sent him off into the system.
He floated away like a maniacal monkey,
his eyes popping from his skull.