Once you've [cheated death] so many times
you begin to feel
like you owe him or that maybe
you can beat him
So you play it the mean way
opening your shirt for his switchblade
or rushing him quick w/a fist
coming out of your jacket
until he has to shoot you
once between the breasts and the
heart explodes
Once you've called the bluff
of the Thousand Midnights and busted
that myth of the
one true love
as if it were a bar room mirror
that's checked you out
once too many times
to be looking
for something other than a fight
You begin to feel like you owe
someone an explaination or
worse
that no one is asking anymore
for anything
So you write a poem on
flash paper and touch it
w/your cigarette
Or make phonecalls @ 3am
to the parents of old friends
who just
hang up on you
Once when I was 12
I murdered a small
brown toad
in the woods behind
the neighbor's house
And nothing happened.