Friday, July 24, 2009


He wanted this.

He wanted it
with an absoluteness,
standing there amidst
angry words,
as one in front,
four behind,
step in.

Hands shaking
he stares at them
waiting, wanting
one hand touches his arm
"Forget them."

One a.m. the phone rang.
Her voice hysterical,
he could see her tears
she couldn't take it
the noise and people
her brother so good at twisting words
manipulating guilt like soft dough
knowing full well his power
of history and remembered emotions
please come

Two hours after midnight on a
road with no lights
his legs couldn't move any faster
the roar of passing traffic
was muted by his breath.

Three times, angry heads stuck out
of passing window, shrilling
a drunken siren's call
hoping for the slightest pretext.
He almost,
but he didn't -
he couldn't afford that.

"Just come upstairs don't worry.
If they try anything I'll call the cops.
Forget them."

He shouted into the phone
to meet him outside.
He was almost there.

Five men stood outside
liquor in hand.
He tried to ignore them
tried to pass by
but when they stepped up
so did he.

He wanted this.

one hand touches his arm.
"Forget them."

Three hours pass,
the words had faded,
the tears were gone,
and the soft sound of sleep,
fills the air with peace.

He wanted this.

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