Back against the abyss
Eyes ears nose strain forward
Into smelly chaos cacophony
Slap, pain. pink worm screams
Light blur heavy air
Masked bandit
“It’s a boy.”
Vanishes
(What the hell?)
Blur coos tweaks incubators
(Anything I need to know
About this crap?)
“You’re going to die.”
(Well, at least there’s that.
These other bastards got to stay?)
“No. Them too.
All going to die.”
(Weird. So what we waiting for?
Let’s get this show on the road.)
“You have to wait a while.
Those others have to die
First. Mostly.”
(Cripes! I gotta stand in line?)
“That’s a way of looking at it.”
(So what the hell am I supposed to do
Meanwhile?)
“Forget what I’ve just told you.
You’ll find something.”
(It’s so damned boring
And it even hurts)
“Don’t look back
Keep your eyes away
From where you’ve been
And where you’re going.”
(But all these other bastards
Stirring around making racket
Doing backflips and cartwheels
What the hell is that all about?)
“Before you can talk about it
You’ll come to think
All that is what’s important.
(Say what?)
“Watch them you’ll soon see
They never look into the abyss.”
(Yeah. I noticed
They’re playing pinball
And masturbating
Let me the hell out of here)
“Don’t try to cut in line
Ahead of someone else.
You’ll screw things up.
I mean it.”
From Poems of the New Old West
Copyright 2002, Jack Purcell