Thursday, December 2, 2010

About that time my soul was possessed by Clint Eastwood's soul...

A shot into the air to calm my nerves a bit/knowing this could be my last day of freedom/I wait/the cold steel trigger pressed against my finger/like cold cement with my head pressed down/hands around my throat choking my face to a deep purple/ignorant words pressing into my head until eardrums explode/until blood-puddles form beneath me.

I reload/recalling the time you said I will always be nothing/too lazy to be a running back/too stupid to understand fundamental mathematics/one could safely say yours will be a future of peril/like a helpless Haitian child/ adopted for government money.

Headlights beam from the bottom of the hill/stretching far into the night sky/as if signaling for some kind of hero/as the car climbs the lights shrink down into the street/I now lay silently behind the hedges/sweating from heat/crying from nerves/an old Ford truck pulls into the driveway/the motor screaming for a tune-up/the chipped brown paint running from the noise/a motion sensor turns on the porch light prompting an army of moths to fly in/making its glow barely visible/the truck is off/and he is getting something out of the back/I stood and whispered to him:

You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya punk?

He turned to a 12-gauge in his stomach/frightened at first/then arrogant:

That's what I used to say before I whooped your ass.

I chuckled at him/he chuckled back:

You don't have the sack to pull that trigger. You never could defend yourself

This was true/I never could:

I was seven

At that/he chuckled again/his nostrils flaring/a smile broken from years of bar violence/i pulled a Marlboro red from behind my ear/lit it/took a drag/chuckled once more

I lowered the gun and shot his leg/ meat flying as he fell to the ground/he lay on the cold cement/his head pressed down/ one hand around the throat/slowly choking him to a disgusting shade of purple:

You're fucking crazy

The words were forced from his mouth/barely audible/but i picked them up/my free hand shoved the barrel onto his temple:

You're God damn right

He flinched/I took another drag/and sprayed his brains all over the driveway:

now who can't do fundamental mathematics, mother fucker?

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