The man on the phone

he stared at me today

his curly hair

like a cherry tree

 

He gazed at me

glass ball-eyed

he yelled and screamed

did not piss in his pants

 

Hand in pocket

he knows me

I try to pass

he stabs through me

 

The man on the phone

he hunts for me

I ran down the hall

pass a sign

he follows

the man on the phone

 

I ran past the crew

and the bed men too

I ran to the alley

and past the white ghosts

 

I have a glimpse

woman in the window

her bare breasts

sticking out

 

Her nipples hard

as can be

man on the phone

on my ass

 

I stare at the woman

the woman in the shadows

out from the window

she gives a yell

 

I climb the ladder

to the woman

her breasts bare

in front of my stare

 

She takes me inside

the phone man behind

I lay on the bed

as she straddles my waist

 

The window crashes open

the man who knew me

he runs into the room

as the woman grinds her hips

 

The phone man approaches

the woman atop

pulls a caliber

out from his jacket pocket

 

Points it behind her

In front of me

behind her bare breasts

her stiff nipples

in front of me

 

The phone man

he pulls the trigger

I bleed

Her nipples toss

In front of me

 

The phone man

he knew me

I lay there

as he calls 911

as his lover

falls to the ground

as I die

beneath dead bare breasts...

 

 

 

© 1997 David Greg Harth

97.11.20.22:17:57@NYC