Blood Walk

Made him take a walk with me

just to throw small

daggers shaped like

carefully chosen words.

Also so that he could see

me cry about someone

who isn’t him.

–                                                      My best friend’s blood is still on

–                                                      the pavement by his house

–                                                      from Monday night when

–                                                      he got shot

–                                                      in both legs and

–                                                      the blood is red.

–                                                      Red red bright not

–                                                      faded like drops of

–                                                      chewed gum.

–                                                      I look at the red and

–                                                      cry again and

he puts his arm

around me and takes

smaller steps to match mine.

We go back to my house where

I talk in circles and

he watches me.

I watch his cracked lips

not move (they never do)

and think about all the

chapstick tubes I’ve given him.

I think about the chapstick

–                                                       I just gave my best friend

–                                                       in the hospital yesterday.

–                                                       Damn, split again between

–                                                       now and all over.

–                                                       Between someone I love and

these hands I look at now

attached to arms, shoulders, and

memories I loved.

his attempt at comfort sickens me

yet all I can think of is

his lack of earlobes

and biting on them.

(Written in 2007)

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