i load shot-gun shells
the size of salt-shakers
into a revolver that looks
more like a cargo-plane
than a hand-gun
you see i’ve decided to
bite the bullet and eat
death alive
slipping the barrel in my mouth
i begin to salivate and start
chomping at the bit
i squeeze the trigger
buck-shot blows across
my taste-buds and out
the back of my skull
peppering the wall and
leaving me with nothing but
a bad taste in my mouth—
sucker punched
she gets inside my
chest and roughs up
my heart pretty good
a couple of jabs
a few right hooks
she says she’s just
shadow-boxing
but something must
be getting thru
‘cause i can feel
every blow
she’s left my poor ol’
heart with a black-eye
and a busted lip
she says she’s just
interested in light sparring
and some foot-work
but somewhere in our
exchange a body-shot
slips in
now i’m down on one knee
gasping for air
wishing i had put up a
better defense and not
taken her advances so
lightly—
1 comment:
"main course" really hit me in the gut, steve
Post a Comment