Yasure ya got enuf dar   Sport

he spoke unerringly into the open eye of my revolver

Im pretty sure

I shot him in the forehead

his head bucked back and whiplashed forward throwing him onto all fours

the muscles went out of his neck

his head slung down

I fired another shot into the base of his skull

imaging the bullet

winding its way spinning gobs and synapses like abandoned spiderwebs to the bridge of his nose

madly stirring the pot

his elbows bent

trembled

then let out

he rocked back onto his haunches and forearms

his breathing hoarse  labored

I was sticking around

anxious for his pilotlight to go cold 

a slick whistle a sputter accompanying his gurgling

and with that music in my ears I found myself fascinated by the neat oozing hole in the back of his head

a thin spittle of blood and brain fluid slipping onto his neck  descending into his cropped hairline

it wicked  spreading unevenly

weighted to his left

his arm sprawled furthur ahead

his body listing

sputter

             Jesus he was taking his time dying

his body shuddered

I thought Id witness the stain of his evacuated bowels and bladder to follow

No

nothing

not yet
                         shudder

shudder . . .

a deep growl from inside his throat

                                                                grooowl  haw    haw       hu

haw

I moved out from behind him and saw the puddle of blood under his head tremble at his exhalations

hu
     

                 haw 

then into its sticky center  a dark congealed gob fell

and another

haw

                                then a metallic gob and a faint sound of weight penetrated the pool

 

shudder

              but this shudder moved his head

behind him again I noticed the wicking had staunched  an oblong disfigured Rorschach

and at the neat hole
a bubble

then drool

then another bubble  darker   reflective

drool

another bubble   as if aspirating 
                                                     seated in copper

a groan

then   this bubble broke
it emitted a smashed        mushroomed   

                                                                                    bullet

it laid momentarily on his neck  broke its sticky binds      then fell aside 
onto the linoleum floor

he pushed up   his arms straightening

he shook his head

then   from the guttural occasion of groans          came unmistakably           

a coarse laugh

                             then violent laughter

under those spasm                                                                                                                     

                              he squatted back to his haunches 
then gruesomely   aware I was behind him   he craned his neck and took me out of the corner of his eye

Not enuf Sport  Not ner enuf

very early afternoon,  Labor Day, Monday,  7  9. 15
1457,  Twosday,  8  9. 15

To return to this   brief

quiet

place . . .

that wasnt right

but the very little he knew of it 

                                                    was right

It was

and you had to be satisfied with is and was            

                                                                          might be

might not be

hed be hardpressed to find someone anyone who was   what?Definite

when he tried she tried they tried to be Definite

as definite as they could be

                                              which was definitely unpopular with the people around them who were slathered with indecision 

 

they were imprecise

apparently to impress them you had to exhibit wiggleroom

enough fucking wiggleroom to allow a round 300 pound woman to pass through it effortlessly

their wiggleroom lacked    ambition

not that they were ambitious

what were they?

what are we they asked themselves and their quick at-the-tip-of-their-tongue answer was they were more precise or direct   they didnt skirt the Obvious prefer not to make eye contact 

in a word they Saw and Seeing not averting their eyes they werent ones to curb their tongues or inspire excuses

wighgleroom was dangerous

it couldnt hold a stone dolmen from crashing down on their heads crushing their skulls for the benefit or protection of someone else

                         Nope  Not on their list-of-things-to-do-to-day

they carved their unpopularity with a scalpel and the fledgling skill of a promising surgeon cut away anything that smelled bad or of popculture of look-at-me-Look-at-me-LOOK-AT-ME

and in their deafening quiet isolation and self-reprieve

they did awright

  

0027,  Tuesday 25  8. 15

1527,  Twosday, Great Day for a Successful Surgery,  25  8. 15, Joel the boithday boy