Tag Archives: fight
After The Fight
After the fight
I walked calmly down the stairs
towards the front door
with table legs
breaking on my back.
My brother was in the kitchen
making coffee
“Good morning!” I said as I dodged a stool.
“She’s real pissed. I’ll explain later. I’m off to work.”
My brother lifted his cup
shrugged
and returned to the window.
A lady
across the playground
was pushing a stroller
both were bundled up
so that you couldn’t see anything
but eyes.
It was a brutal winter.
At The Bottom of a Snake-pit Fending Off a Dragon
I was in an apartment building
I still have bad dreams about
at the west end of Cambridge
on the tail-end of being high for two days
but I wasn’t even sure on what.
People liked me so they always gave me things
and when I’m drunk I’ll drop whatever
like a champ
because I’m the Pacman
of human garbage receptacles.
For some bizarre reason I sat in a chair
in the middle of the living room
facing the front door
with some broad in my lap.
Seen her around but
never really got her name
just knew that she was trouble and
wondered if she thought the same of me.
Her ass felt good there.
There was enough of it to really make an impression.
I squeezed her breast and kissed her neck.
I didn’t give a fuck who was watching.
The front door opened and some
bald scary motherfucker
drunk out of his mind barged in.
From word on the street
he was bad-ass crazy and addicted to aerosol cans
and as he smashed his half-full beer
against the wall
got on his knees
raised his scarred arms and screamed
something in Japanese
-I believed it.
In fact,
I believed that this man could
start a fight
in an empty house.
The host
a grizzly chain-smoking native
in an torn Iron Maiden shirt
and Hello-Kitty sunglasses
calmly strolled over and started
feeding him uppercuts
like they were half-price at Walmart.
This was all happening right in front of me
so I was about to get up when the girl
wiggled around in excitement.
Sick bitch. I got hard.
I stayed.
Wham!
They were on the floor to the left of us
Wham! Wham!
Now to the right.
How they avoided hitting my chair
and us hitting the floor
to involuntarily join them in this orgy of violence
was an absolute miracle of God
(there is no God here).
Despite all the action
I started to close my eyes
wondering if I would wake up in Mexico
buried in a crate of oranges
when her cool, calm, soft, compelling
voice whispered into my ear
“You’re exhausted, Sweets. Let’s get you to bed.”
I couldn’t talk. I merely nodded.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Yeah, that shit was still going on.
She got me on the mattress and undressed me
with the proficiency of a
hospital emergency ward
climbed on top of me and started kissing me
or more like trying to stab my tongue to death
with hers.
Her breath was terrible.
Did she ever fucking brush those things?
She seemed so nice, so cool and collective
up until now but this was what it was like
in the snake pit where everyone was vicious
if you gave them time or opportunity.
She turned beast…Dragon!
I felt trapped beneath her fire.
I didn’t want this. Maybe tomorrow.
Probably never.
She was started to make me sick.
Her smell, her weight on me, her tongue, her raspy laugh
-all of it
“Baby, no. I don’t think I can do this. I feel like
my soul is dying. There’s lots of gusto in the other room.
Go find one of them.”
“Fuck that! You’re the prettiest thing here. If you
don’t like it then just shut the fuck up and lie there.”
This was abuse. I was sure of it
because it wasn’t the first time
and I just wanted to turn her over
pin her down, smile and say,
‘So what if I said that to you, huh?
What if I fucking did this to you?’
“Christ, okay.” I replied sheepishly instead.
I was weak as a kitten and this girl
was going to get what she wanted
whether I liked it or not
because at the bottom of the snake pit
it was hard to push off
what slithered all over top of you
and sometimes you couldn’t
see the dragon
until the clothes came off.
So I closed my eyes
as she began to rock
back and forth
back and forth
back and…
Drunk Kid at the Bar
I was leaning against the bar
absently stirring my drink
when there was a tap on my shoulder:
“Hey, get the fuck out of my way. I need a beer.”
I decided to ignore it. Maybe it would go away.
But no, there were several taps on my shoulder now.
“Didn’t you fucking hear me? Move it! HEY BUDDY! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY! NOW! I SAID NOW!”
I sighed, stood up, turned fully around and looked down at this college kid
that appeared to be the source of the problem.
This boy
who looked like he enjoyed mom’s cooking
sleeping in on Saturdays with his thumb in his mouth
like an infant
and generally sauntering through life in his pyjamas
also looked like he would hurt himself a lot more
in the process of trying to hurt me.
I didn’t even say anything. I just looked at him. But I suppose it was enough
because he immediately changed his tune:
“Hey man, I’m really sorry. I’m really fucked up right now. Sorry, man, sorry.
I’m really fucked up.”
He kept repeating it and patting me on the shoulder
and it was pissing me off more than his initial bravado
until his friends dragged him away.
He smiled and gave me the thumbs up
like that strange, one-sided altercation
had somehow made us friends.
I don’t know if he was trying to impress his friends or his girl
if he was really that fucked up or was just an asshole.
Most likely a fine mixture of all of that.
What I do know is that he’s lucky he didn’t try that
on my good friend standing beside me
because he would have fucking killed him.
I returned to the bar and to absently stirring my drink.
Fucking kids. I thought.